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Fantasy Royal Witches: Characters

welian

welian

#BlackLivesMatter
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
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Characters
Welcome to the Characters thread of Royal Witches! Before we continue, there are some rules to address.

I reserve the right to reject characters as I see fit. Characters will be rejected if:
  • The sheet contains information that contradicts the internal rules of the setting;
  • The technical quality of the player's writing does not meet what is expected for a detailed roleplay;
  • The character has a role or background that prevents them from plausibly meeting or working with preexisting characters;
  • The character has a role that the roleplay already has an excess of, or the role does not fit well into the current needs of the story;
  • The character has power balance issues.
To indicate your interest in the roleplay, please copy the code for the miniature profiles below, and PM it to me, in a message titled "Witches Application: CharacterName ". You have a limited amount of space in which to describe your character (roughly 45 words), so be concise.

If you are not able to, or do not feel comfortable with the BBcode I used, please provide your character image if you've chosen one, and your description in your PM and I will fill it out for you.

Character images should be painterly illustrations if possible, or detailed anime-style artwork otherwise. Photographs may not be used for character images. If you put in the effort to draw your own character, you may draw them in any style you like.

Full character sheets must be submitted to me before being posted, in a PM titled "Responding to summons: CharacterName". Character sheets that are posted without my approval will be deleted without notice. Again, if you are unable or unwilling to work with this BBcode, please provide your character information in plain text and I will take care of the rest.

If you are so inclined, you may change the font color and typefaces of your character's profile. However, you may not change the font size or the layout of the character sheet, and you may not omit any fields. If a field does not apply to your character, simply type "none" and move on.

  • While you work on your character, here are some basic rules to keep in mind, that will be further elaborated upon in the Settings thread.
    • All characters are human, there are no other mundane (non-divine) humanoid races in Arcana.
    • If your character has an unnatural hair color (because anime, it happens), it will be assumed that magic or dye was involved.
    • It is impossible for a person without a functional menstrual cycle to cast spells. However, they can still use enchanted items and be affected by magic.
    • It is impossible for a witch to control a color of mana that she was not born into. All her spells, regardless of who authored the spell or where it came from, will be cast with her color mana.


 
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Dramatis personæ
The characters of Royal Witches thus far. If the character has a completed profile, then clicking on their thumbnail image should take you directly to their post.

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Amelanch Lavan

Queen Amelanch Lavan has ruled over Arcana for twenty years now, ever since the double homicide of her mother Rhodesia and her older sister Cydonia. For a white witch, she has very few friends – and even fewer that she trusts. The queen is notoriously strong-willed. She never apologizes, you see, because she never makes mistakes.
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Cain Lavan

The Warden Commander doesn't take his role as 'King' to heart as most would. Cain is a soldier first, a father second, and a regal figurehead dead last. He's made a name for himself for his ability to lead from the front lines, striking down the Blight without fear.
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Balasar Hagermaus

From the northern mountains, friend and student of King Lavan. Conscripted for an unfair crime, Balasar chooses to remain in service, to make the world safer for a daughter he has never seen. Harsh, intimidating, yet somehow fatherly. He cares deeply for the young witches and wardens, working hard to bring out their best whether they like it or not.
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Pharah Verbena

Head of the Verbena Family, and a high ranking red elite known for her strong will and intelligence. Her title of Grand Matriarch is well deserved, operating with grace, dignity, and wit. Descended from the witches who once held the throne, she intends to take it back. Ambitious, but she is also a respectable mother and loving wife.
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Aurelia Boveri

Boveri, a surname previously hailed as one of the noble houses in Arcana, now disgraced and avoided by any who knows of their unfortunate and accursed history. Aurelia wears this surname name like a badge of honor; her allegiance lies with her blood and anyone else is disposable.
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Eva Fay

The youngest daughter of the powerful Fay family, Eva is a black sheep. Despite her power and skill as a witch, she much prefers to spend her time far from her family estate. She is much like her late father -- strong-willed with a fighter’s heart beneath a veil of hedonistic tendencies.
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Lady Elentiya

As Priestess of her Temple, she is quite doted on as she's the messenger for the Goddesses, spirits, and mortals. Lady Elentiya spends her life mostly in solitude by offering prayers and performing traditional rituals including annual sacrifices and religious services. Nevertheless, the young Priestess wishes to be free from the walls that binds her.
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Florence Sabin

Infertile and incapable of using magic, Florence carved a path for herself with the Wardens and is now second-in-command to Balasar Hagermaus. She is a stern, driven woman who tolerates little and expects much — especially from recruits. In her mind, the harder she pushes them, the longer they live when they face the Blight.
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Carlos Romano

The greatest food and drink maker to ever walk the face of the world bar none. Carlos is actually a pretty laid back guy, and is amicable to the point where he can get along with pretty much everyone. His job as owner of Green Sun's Zenith is something which he takes pride in, and he looks forward to making you a drink soon.
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Iskandr Savale

Forced to watch the many failures of Arcana's law and institutions along with being helpless to watch his brother and sister Wardens die in battle without proper reverence. He feels as if the Nobility and the Old-guard of Arcana is a distant and undeserving bourgeoisie ruling over the people they command. This self-proclaimed Saint will fight the idealistic revolution.
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Bruno Fidele

Bruno is a man shaped by personal tragedy. Having nearly been broken by grief, he has rebuilt himself into a Warden and takes to the field with a grim unflinching approach. Stoical, unsociable and withdrawn, he still struggles to come to terms with his loss.
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Lilith Mora

Lilith Mora is a proficient black that specializes in shield spells. A prideful yet clever and quiet individual determined to reach her full potential, she would rather stick her nose in a book than waste her time listening to nonsense from someone. She has been serving in the Queen's army for three years.
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Carmaline De Lancret

A hero of the front lines, she's the last scion of the De Lancrets, a noble house decimated by terrible luck...or a curse. This Red Witch, with her mastery of fire and her Warden husband, has returned to battling the Blight in hopes of discerning if there's a connection to the doom following her family.
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Archie De Lancet

Inventor turned warden, Archie fights with his wife to search for a possible link to save both his wife's family and her before it's too late. A generalist in combat, Archie is prepared to use both shot and steel fighting alongside his wife to discover the end to the curse that plagues both her and her family, before it's too late.
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Georgio Attano

Stubborn, arrogant, and fiercely independent, Georgio is not the easiest man to deal with. He's convinced that he's being unfairly held back at a rank, due to lacking skills in swordmanship and idiocy from those around him. This, however, is not the full story. His personality is the main problem; following orders is more an exception than the rule, and he's not exactly easy to get on with.
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Damon Dragoslav

One of the many children of the fearsome Noblewoman Isidora Dragoslav, Damon was raised to be a respectful, albeit shy, person. He strives to prove himself amongst the Wardens to appease his Mother and her endless expectations. He has been in the Wardens for ten years and is an invaluable medic for his allies.
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Anisi Verbena

The daughter to quite a noble Red Witch by the name of Pharah Verbena, Anisi is a rather reserved yet intelligent Blue Witch who holds true to her word despite being unwilling to act on it. Trying to string together what her older sister deserted, Anisi is only motivated by the promise she made to piece together back her family and repair their tarnished reputation.
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Margaret Hagermaus

Unyielding in the face of any threats to Alfurasva's independence and safety, Margaret is the current Matriarch of house Hagermaus, a powerful family of Black Witches and the current ruling monarchs of the Great Black North. She's known for treating her subjects with fairness and respect, and for being ferocious to those who would test her.
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Lydia Shoerhiker

A former warrior witch now a pacifist, Lydia makes sure the unit is well stocked and supplied as the Quartermaster, serving as the unit’s blacksmith, armorer, repairer, jack of all trades.

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Evelyn (Eva) Fay​
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Color: White
Occupation: Military
Rank: Matriarch
License: 9 Petals
Personality
Eva exists in the space in-between. She is well-groomed and pleasing to the eye, much like her mother and sisters, but Eva’s soul was certainly developed in the vein of her father. She enjoys simple pleasures: a good drink, a good companion and long flowing dresses. However, she takes herself a lot less seriously than her family does. While powerful, Eva still finds herself a bit at war with her own mana and genetics which has hindered her from moving further up the chain of being in the military despite her immense skill and strength. She does not spend her time speaking of herself, instead she finds herself the confidant of many. She does not question authority, as she respects the military too much, but often times it take a bit of a push to get her off of her ass for anything other than a major fight. Her emotions are often held deep down and in their place is a blasé, beautiful woman with a taste for wine and company.

She does have a bit of a temper, however, deep down that only rises when she feels as though one of her own are being threatened or are in immediate danger. There are very few people she would consider close and she holds onto them dearly though it is not always expressed in words. At a young age, she learned to hold her tongue and expend it during her sparring with her father, which is what she continues to do to this day on the battlefield.

Appearance
With her mother’s eyes and father’s striking features, Eva is quite the exotic beauty. She has long black hair that she rarely cuts, instead she pulls it back up and often adorns it in beads or feathers if she is not actively upholding her duties in the military. Her eyes are a striking contrast to her dark hair and porcelain skin, shining an icy blue color that draws all attention to her face. She enjoys jewelry, with both her ears and nose pierced, and takes great pride in her appearance – a trait she inherited from her mother and sisters. When she isn’t on the battlefield and clad in standard armor, Eva prefers to wear long dresses made of gentle fabrics that catch in the wind and sway when she walks. They often hang low on her, though not distastefully so. She stands at a rather average 5’ 5” though taller than her twin sisters, Esme and Elda.

History
Evelyn Fay was born on her mother’s last nerve. From an early age, the youngest Fay daughter failed to exceed or even meet expectations. The only dark featured woman their family had seen in generations took after her father, Caelan, with nothing but the piercing Fay family blue eyes to confirm her bloodline. Otherwise, Eva was brought up in the shadow of her mother, beside her father. Her eldest sister, Eliana, loathed her from the start and often used her magic to play tricks on her. It was only one day that Eliana managed a glamor spell on Eva did their mother realize that Eva’s looks could be remedied with a little clever magic. So Eva grew into a young girl believing that she was equal to her sisters in every way – blonde hair, blue eyes, and a talent for particularly complex magic.

Eva’s father, however, did not approve. A warden by choice, Caelan spent much of his time split between service and the homestead, but Eva was always a point of argument between her parents. Her father was a good man, did what he could to please his wife, and it wasn’t until Eva was eleven years old did she manage to accidentally negate the glamor spell and come to the realization that she was, in fact, nothing like the family that surrounded her. She preferred a sword to a wand, bare feet to ornate footwear, and flowing dresses to the itchy, uncomfortable fabrics her mother and sisters wore. Despite their differences, Eva trained alongside her sisters and showed a talent for magic that far exceeded the others. Slowly but surely after her particularly early first blood, Eva began to rise in capability and trained harder by her father’s side when he would return home. He taught her everything she knew with a sword, often times knocking her on her behind and pushing her to get up and keep going. Even though he could not wield magic, he instructed her in the ways of the great witches he served alongside and often told stories during their sessions of those very women. Powerful, he called them, brilliant and he believed Eva could be one of them. With her father on the patch of dirt in the back of their estate, she felt the most at home.

At a young age, Eva would climb up on her father’s shoulders and promise him that one day, she would be like those witches. She would make him proud, though he assured her he would always be proud.

It wasn’t until Eva was fifteen did everything change.

Word came at dawn of her father’s untimely death, just days before he was scheduled to return home. There was nothing to bury, no part of him left whole enough for proper rest, but as the husband of a prominent family there was a funeral held without burial. It was in her grief that Eva snapped. When her mother and sisters brushed off her father’s death and quickly moved on without a single tear, Eva did not hesitate to leave. With some belongings packed, she uprooted from her family estate and made her way into the heart of the capital to find herself a home. Shortly thereafter, she joined the military for her mandatory two years but stayed on both in part to her father’s memory and her sense of belonging with the very men and women he fought so bravely for.

Nearly a decade later, she has raised up in rank and is close to being the brilliant, powerful witch her father always believed that she was. Though she lost some of her ambition after his death, she stands as a strong, unmovable force. Despite all this, Eva is still as free-spirited as the young girl who used to sit on his shoulders and finds herself enjoying much of her time off in taverns and festivals, enjoying the pleasures of life as they are fleeting things. After all, life is far too short to be serious all the time.

Relationships
Evanora (54) - Mother of Eva. An all-powerful white witch. She takes pride in her pure bloodline and holds her daughters near and dear to her heart. She has always been rather judgmental of Eva as she does not fit the mold of what a Fay woman should be.

Caelan (deceased) - Father of Eva. A well-known, well-respected and talented Warden. He was an officer in the military up until his untimely death on the battlefield. He spent his time split between home and the military, but any time he spent at home was spent with Eva.

Eliana (31) - Eldest sister. The prodigal daughter by all means. She is a well read witch, capable of complex spells and connecting with spirits. She is expected to inherit the Fay estate. Married with a daughter, Eden.

Esme (29) - Second eldest sister, twin of Elda. The most graceful of the siblings, Esme only completed mandatory military service before moving to work as a herbalist alongside her twin. She is certainly more so the face of their business.

Elda (29) - Third eldest sister, twin of Esme. An incredible talent with plant life, Elda is the brain behind her business with Esme. She is also the sweetest of Eva's siblings and the only one who tries to keep in contact with her.

Balasar Hagermaus (36) - Eva's confidant and closest friend. Their relationship was forged out of the crippling death of her father, but has long since blossomed over the last decade. While she would never say it aloud, she considers Bal her only true family and genuinely believes that he knows her more intimately than anyone else.

Skills
  • Drinking - Eva has an iron liver. Not literally, of course, but through her experience in her military and non-military roles she often finds some solace in a drink. She is not picky about what she drinks, though she prefers wine because she can consume far more and still make it to her post the next morning without problem. She is a terrible influence in the sense she is always the first to start drinking and the last to go home for the evening, but she is a good time and that is shown at no better time than at a tavern.
  • Dancing - From a young age, Eva has been an avid dancer and enjoys festivals a bit more than others. Music is pleasing to her and while she has a rather simple singing voice, she enjoys nothing more than to listen to others practice their given craft. As a girl, she would spend hours at festivals with her family just dancing to the music playing, often times not even dancing with her feet on the ground as her father would hoist her into the air and teach her proper dances. Even now, Eva enjoys the way her flowing dresses twirl with the music and it is one of the few times she cannot hide her infectious smile.
  • Hand-to-hand combat - Trained by her father, Eva knows how to wield a sword. She is also more than capable of defending herself with her bare hands if necessary. Despite being in possession of her father’s blade, she does not use it and opts for her own sword due to size and weight. She is quicker than she is strong, but she has a fluidity to her movements that is uniquely her own. Almost like a dance, she moves with such grace that it often disarms her target mentally before a first strike is made.
  • Compartmentalizing - A master of pushing this out of her mind, Eva compartmentalizes for survival. A defense mechanism, she saves herself great mental discomfort by separating her feelings from her job. Often times she is asked to do things in the military that she would otherwise oppose, but knows that it must be done. She is skilled at it, too, having resorted to it during her training with her mother and sisters and having it exacerbated by the loss of her father.

Weapon:
  • Wand - A light oak wand fashioned with an amethyst crystal and silver adornments – this wand was a gift from her late father who fashioned the base from an aging oak on their land. After a bit of adornment by Eva and her mother, what was left was a breathtaking wand to be certain. Eva prefers to use her wand for more complex spells, but often is able to (and more apt to) use her hands to cast in order to feel the mana at a more intimate level.
  • Sword - A medium length blade with an ornate hilt. Within the hilt there are two pieces of amethyst crystal to act as foci; however, Eva prefers to use the blade for pure hand to hand combat without the use of magic unless absolutely necessary.

Spells:
  • Phosphorus - A White mana twist on the classic fireball. A bright white flame is launched towards the target where it will explode into a generous area of sticky flames. While the flames are not the hottest, the impact nothing to write home about. This spell has the largest area of its standard variants and has the longest lasting flames of them. A mana molotov.
  • Subpoena - Summons six temporary warrior spirits to fight by the Summoner's side until they're destroyed by the enemy or dispelled.
  • Flare - Create a bright shining light cast forwards, capable of causing temporary to permanent blindness in those who are caught looking directly at it.
  • Reverb Soul - The user can double or even triple their motions that lag behind their initial start. This spell creates solid after images that dissipate a few seconds after the initial strike. Must be casted before they move. This buff lasts for a few minutes, however things like sword strikes, punches, even basic motions can be replicated via the copying of your soul across time. The user must be extremely careful not to shred or even damage their own soul and end up going mad or dying. However you would find this technique extremely useful if you see to damage an opponent multiple times in a short timespan or go about other actions in a short amount of time.
  • Sommeil – An execution spell. Extremely complex and requires a great deal of mana as well as ultimate concentration and control. It is a simple, calm, white mana bubble that encompasses a determined space. Any and all within the space slowly lose oxygen, though it manifests first in a gentle warmth before the affected slowly fall asleep and then into a quick and painless death. The bubble does not, in fact, act as a shield but instead just marks the area affected. It can only range a few hundred feet.
Writing Prompt
There was nothing left to bury.

They had assured her that they looked, that they did their best to piece together the man they’d fought so bravely alongside, but all Eva ended up with was a dirty blade laid across her two bare hands. It had been an offering from a young man who sought her out at the funeral. Balasar. Her father had spoken fondly of Balasar a few times, but Eva could see in the young man’s eyes that her father had given him something, too. He always did. Caelan Fay had an unmistakable stubbornness to him, a great deal of bravery and wisdom for any and all that he met. It was no wonder that Balasar felt obligated to find her. He’d told Eva that her father spoke of her so often that it was clear to whom he should speak and Eva knew his words to be true. Her own family, her own mother was standing tall and beautiful among a group of mourners who offered their sympathy. Never once did Eva see a tear, never once did she hear her mother speak of him as her husband.

Caelan, she would say, was a good man.

But her words were hollow, drenched with the same disgust that she often carried when speaking to Eva. A subtle sound, but it spoke volumes, as did the way her eyes flickered to her youngest before returning to present company. Caelan’s death was not the loss of a partner or a lover, it was the loss of a husband and it was clear that her mother could not stomach the inconvenience of finding another or caring for her own estate. Eva felt her blood boil beneath her skin and the tickle of mana at her fingertips from which she wished she could expel flame and burn the entire damned place to the ground. It felt cold, distant, not like the home she had come to know and love. Her sisters spoke of dreams and expectations, her mother of frivolous things, and all the while the memory of her father hung in the air and only consumed Eva’s lungs until there wasn’t a breath left.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she shook her head and would not let them fall. Like hell she would give her mother the satisfaction. “Evelyn,” her mother’s voice pierced through the air, as if she had been summoned by some force of dark magic. Eva glanced up at her mother and met her stare. The woman had crossed the room and stood with her hands folded in front of her and eyes intent on relaying to Eva the importance of appearances. Her blonde hair was pulled up tight to accentuate her cheekbones, but there was not a trace of sadness in her eyes. “Now is hardly the time for swordplay.”

“It was father’s,” Eva said simply.

“I am well aware to whom the blade belongs,” her mother clarified, “and it has no place here. We are among guests – among friends and family, Evelyn. Compose yourself, there are many witches here you will serve alongside in the coming months. It does not bold well for you to be unpleasant. There is much we must do. Your father may be dead, Evelyn, but we are not.”

Her mother turned on her heel and made her way back into the crowd. The feeling that consumed Eva made her face hot and her heart rise in her chest until it was beating rapidly in her throat. Her breathing shallowed for a moment as her eyes fluttered and she looked around her. Friends, family, wardens, witches – they all came for him, for her father but what would happen when the flowers all wilted and the area vacated? Who did she have? Her mother? Her sisters? An estate that felt too vast for her without her father there? Tomorrow, her mother would continue to train with her, to instill in Eva all the qualities of a Fay woman, but she did not want it. Eva had never been like them, she would never be like them.

Her father knew that, too. Perhaps that was why he had always made her promise to play nice in his absence and train even harder. Next time, he would promise, next time he would see what she managed to conjure up and it was sure to be brilliant.

But there was no next time, there was no swordplay on the patch of dirt out back, and certainly no more stories late at night when the weight of her existence kept her far from sleep. The estate would be empty and every time she looked towards that horizon, she would remember that his figure could never again silhouette against the sun. She was alone, lost in the space left vacant for a proper daughter. There was nothing to be said anymore, no spell she could case or foe to wield a sword against. All Eva had was a choice.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would walk into that very sunrise and leave nothing but a silhouette behind.
 
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Lydia Shoerhiker​
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Color: Red
Occupation: Quartermaster
Rank: Quartermaster; Grand Matriarch
License: Three Petal
Personality
A trusting, hardworking individual, Lydia strives to be the best at whatever she does. This can tend to lead her to be a workaholic, often shrugging off bonding time with others, particularly in the past several years. Often stubborn, she’s not going to give up on something until she accomplishes it. She can hold small talk, but she’s often private about her past, preferring not bring up the traumatic memories of years ago. A pacifist now, Lydia is opposed to enacting violence personally.

Appearance
Born with a blackish red hair, Lydia’s hair has since been permanently magically dyed blonde. Though short in stature (5’2”), Lydia’s body is quite muscular, perhaps even more so than when she was a foot soldier. There are various scars on her front, back, and arms. Wounds that never fully healed from the field. Often clad in a tight leather corset, she typically has black gloves on her hands from dealing with hot objects. Lydia’s face would be described as attractive, although it depends on the person’s preference for broad faces. With a deep voice and heavier accent, her overall self would not be described as particularly feminine.

History
Born to a enchantress/seamstress and a blacksmith in a pleasantly sized town in Rubidia, Lydia grew up learning the tools of the trade from a young age. As a child, it was expected she would take up both these crafts and make a name for herself. Yet, as a child, all she dreamed of doing was fighting. When her first blood came, Lydia was all too eager to run off and join the army, certain she would be there for life.

In her years of service, she came to know a man in her unit, Frank De Lancret. The two hit it off at once, and as time passed, they found themselves growing closer and closer together. Frank was a footsoldier like herself with his friend Archie, and his sister Carmaline who was an officer. Lydia became the fourth in their group as Archie and Carma grew closer together, making two couples. The world seemed wonderful, and life was going great. Frank and Lydia were even talking about getting married on their next tour of duty.

The Battle of Crécelle ruined those dreams. A civilian evacuation during a blight invasion with blight pouring from all directions. The civilians, most of them, survived, but casualties were heavy. Too heavy. Of the dozen survivors in the unit, Carma, Archie, and Lydia lived. Frank did not. Lydia was crushed, destroyed by grief and frustration. Leaving the battlefield, and Frank’s body behind her, broke her. She said not a word to Carma and Archie, friends who she thought she would have for life, future family even. In a way, she blamed Carma for her brother’s death.

Rather than try and deal with those emotions, she distracted herself. Leaving the army, she returned home to resume her training in her parents’ skills and hone her craft, pouring all her frustration and agony from her life into her work. Lydia dyed her hair and swore off combat of any kind by herself for good. She moved to Sylva to start her own business and make a name for herself. While the product and quality of her work was second to none, Lydia struggled at the merchant side, selling herself to public. Too trusting with brokers, a few bad business deals tanked her business. As her business closed, Lydia rolled the uncomfortable situation of reenlisting in the Army under the condition that she would not be in combat herself, but working on the backlines as a unit’s Quartermaster, perhaps the more important role in the unit, with plenty of busy work to distract herself. Since her reenlistment, Lydia has served with the same unit, the very one that Bal and others have since joined.

Lydia has been the capital for the past several months away from the unit, leaving the unit with a temporary replacement Quartermaster, while Lydia worked a special assignment for the Blackmithing Guild at the request of the Queen and King. She toiled away at the project, creating the Queen of the Wolves armor that would be worn by the hero in ceremonies throughout Sylva in addition to training dozens of new Quartermasters how to properly succeed at their jobs. It was a somewhat annual occurrence, this being her 3rd set of custom armor she had made and her 2nd time training new Quartermasters in their duties. Her craftsmanship and the dozens of Quartermasters trained made her worthy in the Guild's eyes of being a Grand Matriarch and the Queen agreed. The ceremony, which took place a few days before the Night of Fire had been one of surprisingly little fanfare. Her job now done in the city and with a new title to boot, Lydia looks forward to rejoining her unit who have apparently been suffering under a Quartermaster who is less than compotent.

Relationships
  • Carmaline De Lancret: A sister in more ways than one, Lydia once thought they'd be friends for life. Now, the sight of Carma brings up memories of Frank, and a part of Lydia still blames Carma for his death. They haven't spoken since Frank's death which suites Lydia fine.
  • Archie De Lancret: Always Carma's boy toy and a lovable dork, Lydia's always been close to the man. After Frank's death, he tried to reach out, but Lydia was having none of it. She still has his old letters packed away in her belongings, wounds which she reopens occasionally and reads when she thinks of Frank, though she never responded to them.
  • Evelyn Fay: One of Lydia's closer friends, Eva and Lydia share a common bond being in the same unit for the past several years. The two, both sassy women themselves, get along quite well. They occasionally discuss personal issues (typically Eva does), but really it's only when she's pissed at something Balasar is doing.
  • Balasar Hagermaus: A reliable, respectable warden who appreciates the work Lydia puts in for the wardens, Balasar is probably Lydia's favorite customer. They chat often, but it's mostly small talk and nothing personal.
  • Damon Valentin Dragoslav: A solid medic, Lydia, as the Quartermaster aka keeper of storage and supplies, interacts with him often. The two share a bond as being perhaps the least (or in Lydia's case: 0%) focused combat people in the unit.
  • Cain Lavan: Someone who seems to respect and appreciate Lydia's work, Lydia has nothing bad to say about Cain. She prefers to view him as he wants to be viewed, a soldier first, King second, and often takes an informal approach to him that others would not often take.
  • Amelanch Lavan: Most people hate Amelanch. Though Lydia would concede she can be a bitch at times, the Queen seems to have respect for her, and Lydia is certain to show plenty of respect towards her. As a representative of her guild, how Amelanch views Lydia and how Lydia treats her matters a great deal.
  • Florence Sabin: A kind woman, Lydia enjoys the time that Florence spends hanging around her tent. Though they often spend time in silence, Florence seems to enjoy the same pursuits as Lydia and has shown interest in getting an enchant done by Lydia.
Skills
Skills:
  • Smelting: Being able to take just about anything and turn it into raw materials for smithing is an art form, one that Lydia has become quite adept at. It’s been joked she could take sawdust and turn it into a sword, although that is a far exaggeration of her ability.
  • Smithing: Taking raw materials and turning them into something usable takes a lot of time, particularly when working with metal projects. The work Lydia puts out is in many eye’s second to none, and she recently had the honor of doing the creation of the Queen of the Wolves’ armor and weapons.
  • Inventory Management: There are a lot of pieces going in and out of Lydia’s possession at any one time. Keeping track of which things she is running low, what pieces she has in progress, who she has given items to already, it’s all a lot of work, but Lydia keeps pace with it.
  • Sewing & Tailoring: A more refined task compared to the hot irons she prefers, Lydia is capable of patching up simple seams and rips in clothes, and could, given time, create new items all together.
  • Fitting Armor: An important skill for any trade woman worth her salt, Lydia is great at fitting armor to a person’s body to ensure a smooth, comfortable fit.
    Item Maintenance: Dent in armor? Blade getting dull? Wand got snapped? Crystal need scrubbed? Lydia takes them all in and fixes them back to good as new.
  • Enchanting: One of Lydia’s favorite tasks is enchanting. She knows a lot of basic enchants and has connections to those within the enchanting field who can pull off higher level enchantments than she is capable of should the need arrive. Sadly, it’s one she gets to do rarely given the costs, but it’s one of her favorites.
  • Fletching: Lydia has to make new arrows and bows when they break.
Spells:
  • Molt: Rapidly heats up the object in hand to allow for shaping and bending with tools.
  • Steam: Rapidly cools an object in hand to solidify the shape.
  • Levitate: Makes the target float in air until the spell is recast to let it fall to the ground. Used for sewing and tailoring, sometimes for enchanting or smithing.
  • Sew: A spell that can automatically go through a pre mapped image in the caster’s mind of the sewing job, doing the needle and thread without the caster actively paying attention to it.
  • Object Pull/Push: Two quick spells that allow Lydia to move items around her without physically placing them.
  • Arrow Make: A spell that basically works like an automatic factory of magic, as long as it is supplied with materials, wood is automatically cut and shaped into an arrow, attached with arrow head and feathers, and placed in the ready bin.
  • Mobile Tent: Wouldn’t it be really nice to able to pack up all your items like your entire forge inside of a tent and take them with you? Mobile tent basically collapses everything inside of the tent and rolls it up into a lightweight tent roll you can carry on your back. Recast the spell to setup the tent automatically, and when you step inside everything will still be there.
Writing Prompt

Lydia carefully rubbed her hands together in preparation, careful to not adjust or move any of the notes she had scribbled by her side. This was her first time enchanting something, a breast plate with a simple enhancement to give it a lighter weight. As a journeywoman, it was an important first step in her training. Remember what the Matriarch said. Picture the enchant. Let it flow through you. Become the enchant. Waving her hands in the air and chanting the words, Lydia pointed at the breastplate, magical energy channeling from her finger into the plate.

The enchant was done. Her first enchant. Moving over to it, she careful lifted it up, feeling how light it was. Yes! The enchant had worked! It felt like the breastplate weighed nothing. Stepping out of her tent into the outdoors, Lydia playfully chucked the breastplate upwards to show off just how light weight it was to the other journeywomen who started laughing. It was then that Lydia realized her problem.

Looking up, the breastplate had shot up into the air far higher than she had intended, and it wasn't coming down. Instead, it seemed, it kept going up. Higher and higher, until it was nothing but a spec in the spy. It'd come down...eventually, but Lydia would never see that breastplate again. It was an important first step in her journey to become a Grand Matriarch. Do not overdo the enchants. The results will not be what you want.
 
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Lilith Mora​
Gender: Female
Age: 20 yrs.
Color: Black
Occupation: Serving in the Queen's army
Rank: Journeywoman
License: 6 petals
Personality
Lilith is generally a quiet girl. She's more of a listener and observer than a talker. Her replies are short and curt, as a person who is not one for small talk. She occasionally jokes around, but she says it in a riddle-like way, and most of the time it's actually a sarcastic insult directed towards someone. She is a rather prideful individual, but is clever enough to know if someone is simply testing her. She is also determined to learn more about magic and to reach her full potential.

As a result of not being quite a social person, Lilith tends to speak in a frank manner, resulting in a lot of negative feelings. She doesn’t intend to hurt a person’s feelings (though at times she does), she simply expresses her thoughts through words. She is currently trying to learn to speak more “gently” to avoid future conflicts, and uses poetic lines to censor herself.

Appearance
Lilith Mora is a lean woman that stands at 5’6”. She has black hair, with bangs that cover her left eye and reach her chin. Her hair is almost always tied to a ponytail. She has dull green eyes that have a determined glint when working with magic. She has a tattoo of the rune for “defense” on her left cheek.

History
Ever since Lilith was a child, she wasn't as energetic or jolly as the other children. Her parents often saw her playing by herself and when she was brought into the company of other toddlers, she would end up sitting out of a game her playmates would be playing rather than be part of it.

When Lilith grew old enough to understand and comprehend what was happening to her surroundings, she would watch with a curious glint in her eyes as her mother practiced her spells. She would giggle when the spell created a sparkly after-effect, and would tap her hands on a barrier to test it strength to help her mother on her research. From then on, her parents knew what Lilith's passion would be in the future.

Her father would watch over her when her mother was out, and vice versa. When neither of them could take care of her, they told her to socialize with other people of her age. Lilith took the opportunity to explore the city more. She encountered a trio of teenagers picking on a smaller and younger child. Being the naive girl she was, she raised her voice and said that what they were doing was bad. The teenagers turned to her and, instead of listening, beat her to the ground. She immediately started crying, and curled up into a ball. The other child, seeing that the teenagers were distracted, ran to find help. She quickly came back with a group of Warden patrols, and one of them was Lilith's father.

The Wardens quickly disabled and brought the teenagers with them, while Lilith's father stayed behind to carry his daughter to the infirmary to treat her injuries. She received a couple of bruises, but they were thankfully taken care of.

Later that day, Lilith's father decided to teach his daughter self-defense, and the basics of what he learned as a Warden. Lilith took the lessons to heart, and she developed her own fighting style to suit her physical capabilities. Aldwin (her father) couldn't be more proud.

When Edith, Lilith's grandmother, passed away when she was 13, she was devastated. She wasn't that close with her, but the old woman still held a special place in her heart. In honor of her memory, Lilith asked her mother, Maya, if she could get a tattoo of a rune on her cheek, as it was where she was hit for the first time. Maya allowed her to do so.

At the age of 14, Lilith became an apprentice. With the help of her mother and late grandmother, she knew more than the average apprentice. She knew the do's and don'ts of magic, and the things to watch out for when casting spells. Although she was up against far more competitive and aggressive witches, she didn't show the same animosity towards other apprentices. Instead, she was so calm and collected, she came off as uninterested to some. She would give her best in duels, and got back up quickly when she lost. She proved herself to be a more than capable witch at the age of 17, when she finished her apprenticeship. Those familiar with her personality and magic described her to be a silent genius. She wasn't very friendly, but she was great in casting her spells.

Taking the positive feedback on her magical talents as an inspiration, she decided to join the Queen's Army. Her father then found out he could get more proud of her, and her mother was both happy and nervous of her daughter's choice.

Relationships
PLAYERS
Scarlet Ebeling - Lilith’s best friend. One of the few people Lilith opens up to. She adores the other girl like a younger sister (even though Scarlet is older than her) and as such, wouldn't hesitate to step in between her and someone who is insulting Scarlet's magical and physical prowess. She used to think of Scarlet as more of a friend in a romantic way, until she realized that it would make things between the two of them awkward, and she didn't want to break the inseparable bond they have.

Aurelia Boveri - Lilith’s crush. She finds the other woman rather attractive, but tries to deny it when probed regarding her attraction. It's mainly Aurelia's confidence and boldness that draws Lilith to her, and demonstrations of her magical powers leave always leave Lilith in awe. She realized that it would be wrong for her to be in a relationship with a high-ranking officer, and has been trying to shake off her attraction, but Aurelia always manages to do something that immediately catches Lilith's attention, and has her heart pounding.

FAMILY
Maya Mora - Mother, a Matriarch. When Lilith is not being taught by the higher ranking witches, her mother helps her understand her spells and lessons. They spend a lot of time together and have a strong bond.

Aldwin Mora - Father, a Warden. He was the one that taught Lilith how to fight without the use of magic. He's a disciplinarian, but is a caring and loving father.

Anice Mora - Grandmother (Father's side). An old woman that likes knitting scarves and other types of clothing. Visits Lilith’s family on occasion, due to being too busy taking care of her husband.

Irving Mora - Grandfather (Father's side). A retired Warden. Rarely ever leaves his house nowadays.

Edith Eyre - Grandmother (Mother's side). Diseased Matriarch. She passed her knowledge onto Lilith's mother. She used to visit her daughter's household occasionally, and sometimes taught Lilith new spells.

Robyn Eyre - Grandfather (Mother's side). A librarian. He likes writing short stories and poems during his free time.

Skills
Skills: Lilith, with her lean form, is an agile fighter. She is light on her feet, using acrobatics to move around and evade attacks. She usually uses sweeping attacks to catch her opponent off-guard, giving her the opportunity to follow up with a more direct attack. She keeps herself fit by training in her backyard, hitting dummies and sparring with her father.

Lilith is also familiar with a lot of runes, though she is still mastering the skill of drawing them. With that in mind, she can understand spells more easily compared to other, less skilled witches.

She can also write poems with meanings between the lines. It is a hobby developed due to her grandfather, who also writes poetry and likes riddles.

Weapon: Lilith’s father urged her to carry at least a dagger with her at all times, and she has one strapped to her belt. The handle is a plain black color, and the butt of it resembles a gem. The hilt is thick by half an inch, and curves slightly upward. The blade is nine inches long, made of sharpened iron.

In addition to having a dagger, Lilith wears a ring with a slot for a mana crystal, and although it's honestly more of a piece of equipment rather than a weapon, it's enchanted to help amplify the effects of her wards and shields. It was a gift from her mother when she graduated from apprentice.

Spells: Even though Lilith can fight barehanded, she is more skilled in the defensive field of magic, and is learning more about enchantments.

Known Spells:
* Armored Skin - A spell she is currently experimenting on. She draws body runes and chants an incantation.
* Spell Ward - Fiat integumentum magicum. Let a magic shield come into being. She can cast a shield that blocks any moderately-powered spell and then it dissipates immediately.
* Barrier - Aegis tua sim. Let me be thy shield. A spherical shield surrounds Lilith and blocks any incoming attacks for as long as she can keep the shield up. This drains her mana for as long as she is casting it, and the larger the barrier is.
* Stepping Stones - Lilith, with the energy she uses to create shields, creates flat platforms that are able to be stepped on and levitate about 10 feet off the ground. They are fragile, and can be shattered against other powerful spells easily, and will vanish once she calls them off. The longest time she can keep 3 stepping stones in the air is 18 seconds. It is quite a taxing spell.
* Discus - Lilith forms discs, and throws them towards a direction. Normally, the impact would be the same as throwing yourself through a glass window, but tougher targets can withstand it.

Known Enchantments:
* Increased Durability (Moderate) - Lilith strengthens the item or weapon with magic. It takes a bit more force before it can break under pressure. Useful for bows, swords, or anything that needs force to operate.
* Knockback (Very Weak) - Lilith empowers a weapon with the ability to knock anything it hits away a really short distance.Due to the enchantment being rather weak, the magical aura of the enchanted item is dull and barely visible.

Writing Prompt
The effects of the spell were not as you anticipated.​
Lilith brushed her bangs away from her left eye to get a clearer view of the words written in her notebook. Sketches of runes and symbols littered the pages, and ancient words filled the spaces between them.

Arma corporea. Arma corporea. Arma corporea.

She chanted the words repeatedly in her head, making sure her pronunciation was perfect. Now all that was left was to draw the runes. Just thinking about it made her expression sour. Bringing out her chalk, she positioned her arm properly on the a large, flat stone in her backyard. Her mother advised her to do her experiments outside, so Lilith wouldn’t make the same mistake as she did, whatever that meant.

Lilith actually asked her father to help her on her experiment, but the Warden quickly rejected her offer, and her mother looked on with an amused expression.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, she lowered the tip of the chalk onto her arm and started drawing. The simpler runes were done with ease, but she would pause after every one to look at her notes to make sure what she was doing was correct. Here come the complex ones. Lilith thought, narrowing her eyes in concentration.

Body. Corporis. Cover. Operculum. Flesh. Carnis. Oak. Robus. Armor. Armis.

Once she got the last line of the final rune drawn, she willed herself to slowly let her breath out. She put the chalk back inside her satchel lying on the grass and turned back to her journal. Runes, check. Now for the incantation. She willed her arm to stay still as she recited what she memorized.

“Arma corporea.”

At first, nothing happened. The symbols didn’t glow, and she didn’t feel any different. She frowned.

“Arma corporea!” she repeated, louder this time.

The runes finally glowed a bright light. Lilith could hear a low humming as the incantation worked its magic on the symbols. The prospect of creating a new spell filled her with excitement. We’d all be more productive if we weren’t so busy hating each other.

Just as she finished her thought, she felt her arm go numb. The runes stopped glowing, and the humming quieted down.

“Goddesses above— What have I done?!”

Lilith’s arm was, well, no longer a proper arm. Rather, it was a tree branch. Suddenly, she felt like the most hopeless witch in the capital and she sighed.

“Mother! I need your help again!”

Notes
- Lilith's tattoo on her cheek is her equivalent of a magic wand. The witches in her family hold a distrust of magic wands, as magic wands have failed them at least once in their lifetimes.
- The slot for a mana crystal on her ring powers its enchantment. Lilith has her own mana crystals in her satchel.
 
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Damon Valentin Dragoslav​

Gender: Male
Age: Twenty Six
Color: Black
Occupation: Warden; Medic & Botanist
Rank: Second Lieutenant
License: Six Petal
Personality
The life of a Noble child under the watch of the well-known Isidora Dragoslav has shaped Damon to a great degree. He is an extremely formal and respectful person who has been taught to treat others with great courtesy. This manifests itself in his tendency to treat just about everyone he encounters as if they were a superior to him, which can make him come off as a bit of a sycophant to those who lean towards treating such suspicious acts of respect and civility as purely negative and seeing it for his own benefit, but this is not the case; It was quite simply how he was raised and how he acts towards everyone he encounters, no matter who they are. Be they the most insignificant and rudest of people to the most kind and prominent, there truly seems to be no difference towards how he acts to others.

Damon, whilst kindly and hospitable, cannot help but become rather shy and withdrawn when interacting with those he isn't familiar or comfortable with. Being raised by a person such as his Mother has resulted in him developing the tendency to expect the worst of people outright and only experience their good side when he is proving himself valuable to them and making himself out to be important. To him, basic courtesy and compassion will not be given to him unless he makes himself useful and beneficial to everyone he encounters. As a result of this, Damon is quick to try and get into people's good books and has the constant need to be validated and approved of; It could be said that he does not live for himself, but for others. This has rendered him rather reliant on others and made him easy to exploit if he ends up mixing with those who have ulterior motives to interacting with him.

Overall, he is ultimately a benevolent and compassionate person who obsesses a great deal over how others view and value him. If he is not making himself beneficial and important to others, then what is the point of living in the first place?

Appearance
Damon has the typical looks of a scion of House Dragoslav. Silky hair that is as dark as the night which compliments his pale skin, with said skin bringing out his prominent and piercing amber green eyes. He has a lean figure with a bit of muscle as a result of working with the Wardens for ten years, although, it's certainly not as impressive or noticeable as the majority of Wardens who fight directly on the front lines. Damon stands at a somewhat small-average five foot six.

The most notable aspect of his appearance aside from those eyes of his, however, are the deep scars that mark his face and various other parts of his body. A smart and observant person will be quick to note that these scars are far too neat to have been gained on the field of battle or anything such as that; they appear to have been etched onto his body with clear purpose and precision.

History
A scion of the noble black mana House of Dragoslav, he was born into what should of been a comfortable and easy life. It was anything but that. One of the many children of Isidora & Seigmund, he was primarily raised under the firm hand of his Mother as a result of the difficulties his father was facing, which made him incapable of fulfilling the role of caretaker. This resulted in an incredibly restrictive environment, which valued obedience to an absurd degree and the fulfilment of the expectations Isidora had set for her children. Even though he was born as a male, he was expected to be just as great as his sisters, no matter what; because of this, he was given an admirable education by the best tutors in Arcana who were made to teach him as many things as possible as quickly as possible, whether he wanted to learn these things or not. From ancient history and politics to religion, he was made to partake in activities which he held no interest in and was expected to excel in each and every one of them. Failure to do so resulted in harsh discipline and even scarification, which his mother utilised to instil a sense of discipline in her children and remind them of their failures so that they would never repeat them again lest they wished to go through the process again.

This lifestyle of his was restrictive and suffocating, something which he yearned to escape from without having to deal with the consequences of disappointing his mother and therefore, failing the family and sullying their noble name. So, to both appease his mother and escape from her grasp, he enlisted in the Wardens at the age of sixteen. It was a decision both he and his mother were happy about. It allowed him the freedom he so desired and provided a getaway from the home which he felt trapped in, whilst Isidora was pleased with the decision because she was convinced that he'd make a name for himself as a "noble saviour" amongst the Wardens and bring glory to the family name, taking on the role as a Medic to support the frontline who fought against the blight. So, he served for a lengthy and arduous eight years amongst one squad, proving himself useful time and again by saving those injured during their battles, both witch and warden, alongside any civilians who got caught in the crossfire. However, after these eight years, he found himself being transferred out of the blue with no real reason, although, he suspects his mothers political machinations were at play and was the purpose for this transferal of Damon from one unit to another.

He found himself being stationed under the leadership of Balasar Hagermaus, friend and apprentice to King Cain himself and cousin to Margaret Hagermaus, the leader of Alfurasva, something which Damon believes to not be a simple coincidence as a result of his Mother and her unending ambitions. Whilst initially uncomfortable at first, being surrounded by people who he did not know and being lead by someone of great notability, he slowly proved his mettle as he treated the injuries of the wounded with absolute skill. Now, having served for two years and being made Second Lieutenant, third in command of the unit Balasar leads, Damon finds himself within the capital city of Verdanthia, Sylva, during the vernal equinox festival.

Relationships
House Dragoslav
Isidora┊50┊ - A stern and callous woman, whilst she loves her son, It is a very unique love that seems more cold and cruel than warm and affectionate. She expects great things from all of her children, and Damon is no exception. He's rather intimidated by her and whilst he tries his best to satisfy her, he also tries his best to avoid her when possible.

Seigmund┊50┊ - Distant and depressed, he never really was the father his children so desperately needed despite him wanting to be there for them. They have a relatively good relationship and seem to be on amiable terms with one another, although, he only ever gets to talk to his father properly when he's having a "good day" which have become increasingly rare over time.

Delilah┊ 31┊ - The oldest child of the Dragoslav family, she seems to take after her mother in a sense, which has resulted in them not being the closest to one another. Cold and severe with a willingness to criticise others when given the option, Damon dislikes her greatly and she seems to hold the same sentiment towards him. They're as different as night and day.

Dahlia┊24┊ - Twin sister to Nikolai, Damon and Dahlia have a fairly good relationship with one another. A rather cheerful woman who tries her best to have a positive outlook on the world, she pursues a career in the arts and seems destined for greatness as a result of her talents.

Zara┊21┊ - The outcast daughter of House Dragoslav, she, much like her brother Vasil, has been burnt from the family tree and is no longer legally recognised as a member of the House as a result of her infertility and refusal to compensate for this by joining the Wardens. They weren't ever really close, but he does feel sorry for her.

Senya┊18┊ - His youngest sister, she is a sweet girl who is currently trying to fulfil her mandatory two year service within the army. Given how long he's been away with the Wardens, they aren't particularly close, but she has fond memories of her big brother and loves him dearly.

Anatole┊29┊ - Damon's eldest brother, Anatole was always a bit difficult to predict and they have a rocky relationship that jumps from incredible to abysmal depending on Anatole himself. He goes from being as kind and cheerful as Dahlia to as cold and severe as their oldest sister Delilah at a moments notice.

Nikolai┊24┊ - The younger brother of Damon by about two years and twin of Dahlia, they both support and love each other and Damon has the closest relationship with him. He works as a professional and rather well known Lapidary who makes the finest jewellery for the Nobles and even the Royalty of Arcana.

Vasil┊22┊ - The outcast son of House Dragoslav, he has been burnt from the family tree and is no longer legally recognised as a member of the House as a result of his "sexual deviance" which he refused to treat or hide. They were rather close to one another, and Damon misses him and wishes to get in contact with him, despite being forbidden from doing so.

Silas┊17┊ - Youngest child of House Dragoslav, Damon doesn't really know him much and they aren't too close with one another because of this.
WardensBalasar┊36┊- He seems like a very good Commander and Damon respects him greatly. Although he's harsh at times, he isn't unfair, and as such Damon admires and looks up to him.

Florence┊28┊- She appears to be a very respectful and kind woman who is a good, stern leader when need be. As such, Damon likes her; enough so to help fund her endeavours to acquire a double enchantment with his own money.
WitchesAnisi┊20┊- She seems like a very nice person and Damon likes her very much. Provides a fair bit of entertainment too on the sidelines.

Aurelia┊27┊- A rather...interesting woman, to put it simply, the two of them are friends and whilst total opposites to each other, they balance out well. She pushes him out of his comfort zone and makes him explore things he wouldn't normally do, whilst he ensures she doesn't overstep her bounds.

Kili┊25┊- Damon likes her very much and seems to appreciate the fact that she casually gives him free stuff. He may is aware of the crush she has on him. Maybe the feeling is mutual.

Lydia┊27┊- A rather quiet woman who Damon appreciates it given her ability to look after all of his medical equipment well. They have a mutual respect as a result of them both being rather private about their lives and not prying at each other; It's a comfortable silence for him.
Skills
Medical Knowledge - Damon, functioning as a doctor/medic of the Wardens in general, is of course, as knowledgeable and skillful as one can be in Arcana when it comes to treating others medically. He can identify the majority of illnesses one can contract after some basic examination and is capable of treating a variety of wounds with a high level of competence. If you need someone to save your life, he's your best bet.

Botany Competence - He uses his knowledge of botany to further his ability to treat wounds. The vast majority of his botanical knowledge mainly lies in the medicinal kind, but he has some skill in identifying and knowing other types of plants as well.

Magical Knowledge - Damon, having been raised mainly by his mother and having a fair few sisters, has picked up a rather admirable understanding and comprehension of magic despite not being able to use it himself. This extends into knowing a bit about the more spiritual side of things as well, but he certainly isn't an expert on it.

Political Understanding - Damon has a good grasp on the subtle politics that goes on amongst the royalty and nobility of Arcana, he's certainly not dim and will notice things quicker than those who are inexperienced in such an area. However, he is only good at understanding politics, not doing them himself because of his personality.

Basic Combat - He does like to keep himself a bit useful outside of his medical skill, even though he's typically kept on the back lines because of said skill and his role in the Wardens. Damon has an above-average capability with ranged weaponry, mainly crossbows, and a mediocre capability with a sword; just the basics to defend himself.

Equipment
Hand Crossbow - A small and easily transportable crossbow that is smaller than a standard one. Whilst it certainly does not have the penetrative capabilities of the original version, it is far lighter and therefore easy to transport and much more easy to load.

Medical Equipment - Damon, being a decent medic, carries around all of the medical equipment one would expect from a medic such as salves, needle and thread, unguents, bandages, soap, dressings and all of that lovely stuff used to treat your wounds.

Parazonium - A long, black, triangular dagger with a very sharp point, it's good for stabbing things and to a lesser extent, slashing them. It is kept in a very nice looking, black leather sheath.

Leather Armour - Some nice light, padded black leather armour that provides some fairly standard protection against some basic attacks. Nothing special, but it does it's job well enough and is light enough to ensure his mobility isn't impeded.

Writing Prompt
You will never speak to this person again, so long as you live.
Damon drummed his fingers against the desk, sighing heavily. This really wasn't as hard as he was making it out to be. Then again, he shouldn't have even been thinking about this. Vasil had been cut off from the family and Damon himself had promised, alongside all of his other siblings, to never come in contact or be in contact with Vasil ever again, so long as they lived. He missed him though, he was one of the more friendlier ones amongst the siblings and they were close enough in ages that they had enough time to actually know each other. Now he was supposed to just simply pretend he never existed in the first place. The least he could do was write to him, but even that seemed beyond daunting. Isidora, mother, would be furious with him for even thinking about doing such a thing. Vasil was a disgrace to the family, not even a part of the family anymore. House Dragoslav was something that he was never a part of, and he would not get recognised as a member of the family.

"I could defy her." He mumbled to himself, breathing out as he looked at the blank piece of parchment. Why was this so hard?
A cold voice reprimanding him, cutting him down and pointing out every flaw, every inadequacy and every failure. He could feel her staring at him , those eyes glaring daggers at him and acting as if he was never her child in the first place. There would be repercussions for this, he knew, and it was difficult to tell whether he was overestimating her or underestimating her. None of his siblings, as far as he was ever, had ever tried to write to their outcast sister and now brother. No one wanted to be the first to know what she'd inflict on them and be the example.

"I could stay as a member of the family too. Be included in the inheritance when mother and father pass. Not be a failure, not turn into a nobody." Running a hand through his hair, this was much more stressful than he thought. Writing a damn letter, of all things, was one of the most single stressful things he had done in the past month and it was pathetic and stupid. He liked Vasil, a lot. They were of similar age and he was a good brother. Not like he was Delilah or something, nor did he really inherit any traits from mother either. Pleasant to interact with, kind, and willing to entrust Damon with his secret before he told everyone else. Felt like he owed him but.....the potential punishment...

Reduced to nothing but an example in the family. Burnt from the family tree, never to be acknowledged ever again. No right to gaining even a scrap of the inheritance that would be granted once mother and father passed. He couldn't risk it, couldn't do it. Grabbing the parchment, he deposited it back into the drawer.

"Sorry." Damon whispered to himself, feeling like a failure for being unable to do something so seemingly simple.
 
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Bruno Fidele​

Gender: Male
Age: 24
Color: Red
Occupation: Warden
Rank: Soldier
License: 3 Petal
Personality
Bruno is a man of few words, and is rarely the one to initiate a conversation. In spite of this he generally welcomes companionship. He can vary from being a sullen companion to quite a cheerful one, but he is capable of switching moods at the drop of a hat if someone says something that reminds him of his loss. He generally reacts poorly to flirtatious advances, though he tolerates them from people he thinks favourably of. He will always step to the aid of a comrade on the field of battle - mainly because he wouldn’t give the Blight the satisfaction.

Appearance
Bruno stands slightly above average height at 1.9m. His dark brown hair falls down to his broad shoulders, though he ties it at the back of his head to keep it out of the way during a fight. His eyes are a dark brown, the colour not helping a perception that the light has, at least partially, faded from his eyes. Well built through a fierce training regime, he weighs 74kg whilst out of his armour.

History
Bruno was a young man of fiery passions. Quick, strong and volatile, he was the epitome of his Red heritage, even though his two parents had done nothing remarkable - his mother had served her two years, whilst his father had worked as a field labourer. The young Bruno frequently got caught up in fights and often came home with a black eye, before then running around the neighbourhood with the boy he had fought with earlier that day. Given this background, when he met the equally tempestuous red witch Ambra, it was no surprise that sparks flew (not all of them figurative). It was a whirlwind romance, a meeting of two kindred flames that caused each to shine brighter and fiercer. His parents were impressed that he had found a partner of significant magical talent, while hers were pleased with the strength of the Red bloodline flowing through his veins. Bruno was truly, blissfully happy. Even when she was called up for her service, the knowledge of their love was enough to keep him going.


That is, of course, until he received the news that she had died.


The flame that had burned so brightly guttered and flickered. He became reclusive, pale and withdrawn. He became emaciated, as even food lost its appeal. The flame almost died. It would've had Ambra’s mother not kicked the door in, slapped him silly and shouted directly in his face that he’d “become a pathetic excuse for a human being” and that her daughter would “despise seeing the abject mess you’ve become” and many insults that are only repeated in hushed, reverent tones around the village. It was enough. A spark rekindled a flame. A flame suffused with sorrow, with loss, with cold unflinching rage. Not the fiery rage of a berserker, lost in emotion. The rage of a man who will stop at nothing, and never stop, until their vengeance is satisfied. He began to eat, methodically. Train, religiously. Equip himself, carefully. Morning runs. Splitting logs. Swordsmanship. He pushed himself harder than he ever had before, seeking to forge himself anew. Once he was satisfied, he enlisted into the wardens, and was placed under the command of the now-deceased Matthias Angelo. He has fought the Blight on the front lines repeatedly in the three years that have followed. In his most recent engagement, his unit was almost completely wiped out, including Angelo himself. He was sent to Sylvia to await reassignment, the timing just happening to coincide with the vernal equinox festival...

Relationships
None as of yet.

Skills
Skills: Stamina - As someone who regularly (even obsessively) trains, he can fight for a long time without tiring, even in heavy plate.


Brute Force: Though helped to a certain degree by his blade's enchantment, a blow from Bruno is not something many walk away from. Capable of bisecting lesser blight, and cutting into even the most armoured targets, what Bruno hits stays very hit. Indeed, such is the force of his swing that it has been known to cut clean through several weak Blight in a single cleave.

Expert Swordsman - Bruno has the strength to wield the Zweihander sword to its potential, as well as the dexterity to exploit openings swiftly. The experience of a youth spent fighting also give him a keen sense for reading his opponent, allowing him a basic degree of anticipation. Combine these three together and you are left with a formidable opponent. Bruno has encountered few Wardens that he cannot best in blade-to blade combat.

Cook: Though by no means a culinary prodigy, he is at least capable of creating meals that taste reasonable and, due to his attention to detail, provide a reasonable nutrient balance.

Weapon: A simple, unadorned Zweihander, 180 cm long with a second hilt just above the crossguard that allows him to use it with greater flexibility in a close melee. At the top of this section are two hooks for parrying. It has been enhanced with a simple yet very effective force multiplying enchantment that, while placing greater strain on the wielder, allows Bruno to deliver devastating hits.
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Armour: A set of heavy plate, enchanted for lightness and ease of movement.

'Parting Gift': A pouch of gunpowder, combined with an enchanted rune capable of producing fire when given the correct command. Used only when it seems there is no other way out. The pouch has recently been replaced to be made of treated leather to keep the powder dry amidst the gore of melee combat.

Spells:
None

Writing Prompt

The sun beat down heavily on the field. On one side, an array of Wardens and Witches: the former shining as the sun reflected off heavy armour, and the latter dressed in a dazzling array of colours. On the other, a pack of Blighted creatures. This group had split off from a much larger one shortly before the Royal Army engaged and destroyed it, and it now faced a small detachment from that same Royal Army force, some still licking wounds from their prior engagement. In spite of their fatigue this was expected to be a straightforward engagement. There was more than enough battle power on the field to eliminate the pack with ease.

Bruno stood stoically, zweihander resting against his shoulder. Around him Wardens shuffled anxiously or fidgeted with weapons and armour. One or two could even be heard audibly praying. He had become accustomed to the anxiety of those around him prior to battle, understood it even. These were men who had something else to live for, be it wives, children, dreams of earning enough to become merchants and crafters...Bruno had heard it all, sat around the campfire. They fought for survival. He fought only to kill. So while they all went through their little rituals, he stood still, waiting for the inevitable order.

He did not have to wait long, as the trumpet blared its first signal. To arms. Bruno pushed his helmet down on top of his head, blinking as the clear view he had was reduced to a narrow slit. The second note on the trumpet sounded, and Bruno turned to see the commander of his unit, Matthias Angelo, motion with the standard to commence the advance. The trumpets had attracted the attention of the Blight at the far side of the field, and a dust cloud kicked up as they too began to move, a solid wall of filth and corruption. Bruno ground his teeth in his helmet as he marched. They would all die here today, by his hand if necessary. The two sides grew ever closer, Bruno able to identify individual corrupted beasts. His heart began to beat faster in anticipation.

The third trumpet and the signal to engage. Bruno charged, letting out a single bestial roar as he swung his blade in a mighty downstroke that cut cleanly through an abomination that may once have been a bear. Ichor flew from the corpse as he continued to swing, cleaving other abominations in a series of simple yet swift blows. To his left and right he could hear the yells of the other Wardens as they too began their work, along with the occasional scream that signified the inevitable casualties. All they needed to do was hold the lines and allow the witches time to obliterate the bulk of the pack. An upstroke opened the belly of what had once been a cow, while the subsequent horizontal slash lopped the heads off a pair of what could only have been humans. He cut and cut, waiting for the arrival of the magical artillery, a small smile on his face as the Blight fell. Yet the familiar impacts of spells did not materialise, and the howls from the other Wardens continued. Bruno could no longer see the others, lost in a sea of Blight as he cut and slashed. Forced to use the secondary hilt as they pressed in on him, he continued to fight even as blows began to hammer off his armour from multiple sides. He was surrounded, practically blinded by his helmet and exhausted. There was only one option left. Bruno's hands went to his waist, where a small enchanted rune sat attached to a pouch packed with a coarse dark powder. There was only one way out of this, and it would be on his terms. Gripping the rune, he shouted the phrase he had ordered two and a half years ago, when he first bought the rune. "IN MEMORY OF AMBRA!" The rune spat flame directly at the pouch of gunpowder and Bruno smiled grimly.

The expected explosion and instant oblivion failed to materialise however, wiping the smirk from his face. The bag had been soaked with blood, and the damp powder refused to ignite. Bruno howled in frustration, whirling his blade around in a vicious arc. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He couldn't let it end like this. Roaring like a man possessed, his sword traced brutal arcs in the air, blood flying from each victim even as he was rocked and shaken by countless blows on his armour. It was over. Just a matter of many he could end. A loud clang was all he heard as a much heavier blow knocked him to the ground, dislodging his helmet. Rolling swiftly, he managed to position his sword to block the jaws of the corrupted bear that aimed to tear out his throat. He could smell the fetid stench as it slowly pressed down, applying more force than his tired arms could oppose. Slowly, inexorably, it pushed closer. This truly was the end.

A gout of flame roared above him, the light blinding him even as the heat singed the tips of his hair. The bear screamed - an otherworldly howl as it was caught fully in the flames. As Bruno shielded his eyes, he felt the heat move away as the magic swept left and right, purifying a huge swath of the filth. Bruno lay gasping for breath as the last dying howls of the pack echoed and fell silent. Against all odds, he was still alive. The witches had stepped in after all, though he felt a searing irritation that they had not come sooner. Slowly clambering to his feet, he could see his unit's standard lying , the remnants of the flag still burning, next to the broken corpse of Angelo. All around him the dead and dying Wardens littered the field - those who, like him, had climbed to their feet were very much in the minority. Picking up his sword and helmet, he staggered back towards the camp on legs that threatened to buckle from exhaustion. There would be no burying the dead - their numbers were too great. As he walked, he passed many bodies of witches - from the carnage it would seem that a flock of blight eagles had descended amongst them. He felt a cold lance shoot through his heart at the sight of one, lying with her eyes torn out, with a shock of red hair surrounding her head like a halo. A lump rose in his throat - is that what Ambra had looked like when she-? Unable to bear thinking about it, he turned and staggered away, willing the image to leave his mind but knowing that it would haunt his dreams.
 
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Florence Sabin​
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Color: White
Occupation: Warden
Rank: First Lieutenant
License: 6 petals
Personality
Florence is a forthright individual and has a hard time understanding why everyone isn't the same. Mind games and manipulations aren't something she dabbles in, and she doesn't appreciate those tactics being used against her. She’d much rather plain and simple honesty. This also means she has the unfortunate tendency to come across as insensitive because as much as she doesn’t like hearing reassuring lies, she doesn’t like telling them, either. At this point in her life, she’s at least learned to keep her mouth shut if her opinion isn’t necessary or asked for.

Her word, when given, means everything. She’ll run herself into the ground before she fails to deliver on a promise and she expects everyone else does the same. A person she perceives as being lazy or unwilling to try their best will lose her respect quickly. She values tradition and the order it brings to her life, but this has made it a challenge for her to think outside the box. Things are the way they are for a reason, and it takes a lot to convince her to alter her methods or beliefs.

She tries her best to squash emotions she considers unappealing, like anger or sadness, making it difficult for her to identify what she’s feeling, much less express it properly. It’s also a struggle for her to deal with emotions in others, especially when tears are involved, and though she does try, she often falls short of being able to effectively console people. Florence is the friend who awkwardly pats the back of someone crying on her shoulder while actively searching for a way to extract herself from them.

Appearance
Standing at 5'8", Florence possesses the lean, muscular frame of one who has trained extensively with various weapons daily for almost a decade. Her sharply defined features combined with the downward tilt of her mouth in its resting position make Florence look displeased even when she's not, though when she smiles it softens her face enough to make her seem approachable.

She keeps her dark brown hair long enough to tie back without the risk of any strands escaping and falling into her equally dark brown eyes, but short enough that it doesn't end up tangled if it's down. When she's not fully outfitted in armor, she's in loose shirts paired with trousers and well-worn boots -- practical clothing that can be worn sparring or mucking out stables. All her various labors have left their mark on her, be it smudges of dirt or scars, marring an otherwise fair complexion.

History
Florence was the second of three children born to Rosalie and Alva Sabin, both former members of the Royal Army turned cheesemongers in the capital city of Sylva. Their second child but first daughter, Florence spent most her childhood either with her mother in their shop, learning the family business or with her father at home, being tutored in supporting skills like reading and writing. Her mother had been a force during her stint in the military and might’ve made a career of it, but she devoted herself entirely to her family, shifting from destroying dozens of blighted creatures with a single spell to moving several hundred pounds of cheese at a time.

As Florence grew older, her mother taught her something of the spells she used, promising that some day she would be able to do all she could and likely more if she devoted herself to learning magic, for she came from a long line of powerful white witches.

When Florence’s First Blood came, it never seemed to be enough to please the goddesses — she was unable to cast any of the spells her mother had taught her no matter how many hours she dedicated to practicing. There was an uptick in sacrifices and prayers from the entire Sabin family. Florence, her mother, and her grandmother were guiltless as far as any of them knew, but surely something had been done to offend the goddesses for Florence to be refused access to magic.

Even when her sister, ten years her junior, had her First Blood and began mastering spell after spell, Florence’s mother insisted she not give up. By the age of twenty, though, it became more difficult to hold out hope, and in order to spare her family more pain, Florence began to mask and eventually bury her true feelings (though they were never buried more than shallowly). She convinced her mother, and by extension, her father and two siblings, that she was content with the life the goddesses had given her. She would find a way to make the best of her circumstances, while at the same time seeking to appease the goddesses with a sacrifice of her own.

Florence joined the Royal Army as a Warden.

In the following years, she was assigned to posts well away from any action. It didn't stop her from continuously practicing fighting techniques and learning all she could of combat tactics, nor did it prevent her from making herself useful in the stables. Despite the special treatment she received (continued placement in safe areas and promotions she wasn't sure she deserved but didn't refuse), it wasn't until an incident that resulted in Florence striking a witch while on duty that she truly understood the privileges she had as a woman. Rather than being demoted or tossed into The Abyss like she suspected some wanted, she kept her rank and was transferred to Balasar Hagermaus' unit.

Florence has spent the past two years proving to Balasar that she deserves the rank she was given and joins him and the rest of their unit in the capital city. She's happy to be there for two reasons — primarily because it's a chance to visit with her family, but also because she's finally able to have the Quartermaster equip her glaive with the enchants she needs.

Relationships
Rosalie Sabin: Her mother is a strong-willed woman who even now refuses to give up on her. Despite Florence’s insistence she stop making sacrifices in her name, Rosalie still makes monthly visits to the shrines of the goddess of white mana, Suri, and the Moon Mother in hopes they bless her daughter.

Alva Sabin: Her father, a man more comfortable writing what he thinks than with saying it, sends letters to Florence regularly. No matter where she’s stationed, his letters find her. She looks forward to hearing from him immensely and always makes time to write back.

Elgar Sabin: Her older brother serves at the temple and prays to find a wife willing to overlook the fact one of his sisters is infertile. He believes things would’ve been easier if they’d disowned her and disconnected her from the Sabin name. Florence’s relationship with him is strained.

Delphine Sabin: She could hate her sister for having everything she dreamed about, but Delphine’s sweet nature makes it difficult to do anything but love her. She recently completed her mandatory two years of service with the Royal Army and started learning how to run the Sabin Cheese Shop.

Balasar Hagermaus: Florence hasn’t received special treatment nor has she been treated unfairly by Balasar. He has given her the chance to earn the rank she was essentially given prior to joining his unit. She is a soldier to him, not a broken woman deserving of pity or derision. It's something she appreciates greatly.

Damon Dragoslav: The medic joined Balasar’s unit at the same time she did, and she is grateful to have him nearby whenever they go into combat. He seems to like her enough that he doesn't give her trouble when she visits him to get patched up, even if it's a self-inflicted injury, and he recently contributed to her fund for an enchant. She keeps an eye out for him both on and off the field.

Lydia Shoerhiker: Her tent is a sanctuary where she can work on minor repairs in the company of another and not be expected to chitchat. Florence and Lydia have been working on plans for a dual enchant for her glaive.

Skills
  • Glaive & Short Sword: She has trained extensively with her weapon of choice, the glaive, and fights with it as if it's an extension of her body. Short swords don't keep her at the distance she'd prefer to be when fighting the Blight, but she's skilled enough with one to use it effectively in a tight spot.
  • Basic first aid: She knows how to wash out a wound and bandage it with what's on hand, and knows a bit about poultices and other herbal remedies. Anything major she leaves to the professionals.
  • Cooking: Throughout her time in the military, she's picked up the ability to cook things like stews and porridges, but they're nothing more than palatable and created only in emergencies.
  • Small repairs: Florence can handle minor repairs to gear and tack, but is making an effort to acquire more know-how from Lydia.
  • Teaching: She's able to watch soldiers sparring and pinpoint as well as guide them towards ways to improve their form. She won't let up until they've mastered the thing that troubled them.
  • Equestrianism: She has an affinity for working with horses, and is often found either riding or in the stables if she doesn’t have other tasks to tend to.
  • Whittling: Perfect for keeping her hands busy (and also the source of some scars on her fingers). She's close to finishing all the pieces of a chess set.
Equipment: Her armor is a mixture of unadorned plate, scale mail, and leather. It isn't the prettiest, but it fits her perfectly and serves its purpose. She wears a lightweight blue wool cloak enchanted to be waterproof, repelling rain and bodily fluids alike. Her glaive, with a single-edged blade attached by means of a socket shaft to a wooden pole roughly six feet long, is simple in design and build, but is no less effective at removing blighted heads from blighted bodies than any other glaive in her hands; it has been enchanted to have increased durability. She also carries a simple short sword, as unremarkable as the rest of her gear.

Spells: None.

Writing Prompt
Florence held one hand on the big horse’s velvety gray nose and the other on his cheek, keeping his head still while she spoke quietly to him. His nostrils flared as he huffed at her, but she continued holding and speaking to him. She spoke of the weather, what a beautifully clear day it promised to be, and she spoke of the meadow she intended to take him to.

“Fresh green grass as far as you can see,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. His ears flicked forward. He was intrigued. “We have to go together, though. That’s the deal.” The steed, new enough to the Wardens that he didn’t have a name, lowered his head a notch, then lifted it sharply, causing Florence to lose her grip on him. She lurched forward and grabbed the noseband of his bridle before he took off.

“None of that,” she chided. “Remember? Big green meadow?” The horse nickered and shifted before settling again. Florence remembered she wore soft leather boots, not plate, and if he stepped on her, it’d hurt. She took a healthy step back, glancing down to make sure her toes were clear of his hooves.

“Now,” she said, gathering up the reins, “I’m going to pull these over your head.” She did as she said, carefully sliding the reins up and over the horse’s head. She walked to his side, maintaining a point of contact with him always, so he knew where she was. “And then, I’m getting in the saddle.” Again, she did as she’d warned, hooking her foot into the stirrup and swinging herself into the saddle. Once she was astride the horse, she watched his head, but his ears remained pointed upright and he didn’t crane back to take a bite out of her leg.

So far, so good.

She clicked her tongue and nudged the horse’s ribs with her heels. He moved forward a step. Florence smiled, but her face fell when he stopped and swung his head around to aim one big brown eye her direction with his ears flattened and his teeth bared.

“Don’t do it,” she said warningly, but he didn’t listen.

All Florence could do was hang on as he bucked his way around the corral, trying to remove her from the saddle. It was the combination of kicking and spinning abruptly that finally forced Florence off balance and she hit the ground hard enough that it pushed the air from her lungs. It wasn't enough to keep her from rolling away and onto her feet so she could run for the fence and climb over it to safety, though.

“What’s that? The third time he’s thrown you? I don’t think that horse likes you.”

Florence jerked her head towards the source of the voice, a young man with a pitchfork in hand.

"Fourth," she corrected, rubbing the shoulder she'd landed on. She eyed the lad with a frown. "Not that it should concern you. I assigned you stalls to muck."

"Yes ma'am," came the glum reply. Florence waited until he disappeared into the stables before turning her attention back to the gray stallion.

"You'll learn to love me," she promised.

The horse snorted.
 
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ANISI VERBENA​

Gender: Female
Age: 20
Color: Blue
Occupation: Witch
Rank: 3 petals
License: Novice
PERSONALITY
If paranoia came in a form then it would be that of Anisi Verbena, a Blue witch with a knack for fearing for her life in situations that she most definitely shouldn't. The young woman holds together an endless list of fears and inabilities as well as doubts and it often affects her self-esteem severely. Whether it be some excuse conjured up out of a general unwillingness to participate or simply a ridiculous reason by yours truly you most certainly can count on Anisi to never be around when you need her. However, what the witch lacks in physical strengths (and wits) she does make up for in intellect as in if you needed to read a book during the Blight (God knows why) then the witch would be a godsent. When Anisi is enraptured by something she tends to stay on that subject for an extended amount of time and those she keeps close often get a voice in their ear whether they wanted to or not, the topic of the day either being the misuse of enchanted items or the corruption within ranks. It truly is a bittersweet experience when befriending the young woman as you'll never quite know when those particular topics could come in handy. With every downfall comes a strength and one should not mistake Anisi for weak as she has a clever approach to things and a strong-willed mind..the only problem being that she can not quite support herself or many others.

When it concerns love and other affairs, Anisi has a conflict with ending such matters before they begin out of a need to preserve herself before she is hurt and it is wise to not allow oneself to become close to the witch as she will most likely be gone one day without a reason why. It is true that she holds a passion to be like those who are braver and bolder than her however it falls short when she actually attempts. The motivation is present but never the actual ability and it leaves Anisi with a feeling of utter hopelessness and the fact that she will never surpass those she admires. When these moments happen, Anisi often folds into herself and goes through a cycle of endless emotions that causes her to act in a rather impulsive manner. It is best that those who choose to be around the witch leave her to her own devices in these few moments as there is no telling what she will attempt.

Appearance
Taking on a rather unassuming height of 5'6, Anisi isn't the most obvious presence in the room neither is she the most discreet. The young woman's blue eyes contrast starkly against her dark complexion and brown hair and her slim features make her rather attractive if one were to notice her company. Being that of a fairly beautiful woman, Anisi has her fair share of flaws including the prominent gap in her front teeth from an incident long ago and a jagged scar which runs along her stomach. She can often be found drowning in an oversized white cloak that she chooses to wear in order to avoid unpleasant situations (which is nearly everything.) If you are to see a figure donned in white moving about then you can be sure that it is Anisi.

History
Anisi was bred into fear, a child of delusions unbound with a habit of stating them aloud to those who didn't quite want to listen. With her mother and father there was always an endless amount of affection however Anisi most definitely looked up to her older sister in a way that many younger siblings do. This was all destroyed when upon her coming of age and her sister's enrollment into the military, she deserted and completely shattered their family's reputation without even a simple apology. From then on, Anisi's trust and love for her sibling quickly dwindled into something much more hostile and her faith in many was diminished as a result. It was as if a switch simply flicked off and no longer was there admiration for the one she had once labeled her role model.

From there, Anisi made a vow to her family and her parents that she would be the one to pick up the pieces although being rather scared to do so and she enrolled herself as soon as possible, finding herself quickly within the ranks and into the battlefield at will. It was a sacrifice that needed to be made for the sake of the family and after her sister's abandonment, Anisi was reluctant to admit that she did miss her sister in her absence and would find small ways to help locate her just to ensure her safety however that was not the only motive and the woman couldn't help but admit that this possibly wasn't her responsibility. Carrying her sister's actions on her back? Making a promise she was unsure if she could keep?

The idea to run like her sister did was all the more tempting and this thought was disappointing to say the least. Nowadays, Anisi often wonders if that's the exact route to go although the fact that her sister could have been killed is the one thing to give her pause.

Relationships
Pharah Verbena - Mother
Anisi views her mother to be a strong and determined woman with a mindset that is set in its way. Although some of their views may not align, Anisi is happy to have had such a wonderful mother and will not hesitate to fight tooth and nail for her person. Considering the fact that Anisi's older sister abandoned them, Anisi attempts to live up to the legacy her sibling left behind.

Scarlet - Crush
It isn't often that Anisi finds herself in situations where she displays romantic interest however it appears that Scarlet is an exception to this rule. The young woman often finds herself flustered when thinking of the other and can not keep a straight face if asked if there were to be any fixation concerning their...interactions. Although unable to commit or at least stay in bed past dawn, Anisi does have one thing going for her and it is that she admires Scarlet and finds her to be extraordinary.

Nikolas - Companion
Anisi views Nikolas as one of her closest friends. She often hangs around him when she can and enjoys his company - by company she means impolite banter and constant annoyance - and she even doesn't mind testing her boundaries in his presence. He is one of the few she is able to trust and she appreciates him for being around even if it were only for a moment.

Elena - Companion
Elena happens to be another one of Anisi's most trusted confidantes and, without the young woman's guidance, Anisi would not be complete. The two are a dynamic duo and Anisi relies on Elena heavily to help her through troubled times. Had it not been for Elena, Anisi would not have been able to survive in her current position and she is grateful for Elena's company.

Damon - Companion
Damon is another intriguing person in Anisi's life and she often worries for the man. She believes that he should be looked after as he tends to others and checks up on him daily to make sure he hasn't gone off the deep end entirely. Should Damon need help with something combat-related (although I wouldn't know why he would) then Anisi would try her best to assist.

Balasar - Father Figure
Although Anisi already has a father there is no one that could possibly compare to how she views Bal. He is her role model, her helper, and the reason why she wishes to be braver than she usually is. In times of need and desperation, Anisi often seeks the older man's wisdom and she is more than honored to receive it. She has wanted to make her family proud for a long time but she would feel even more accomplished by making Balasar proud as well.

Skills
Skills:
+ Is skilled with navigation
Ask anyone and you'll find that Anisi has a knack for knowing her way even in the most darndest of places. Call it intuition or simply the fact that she knows her geography but the young woman is able to navigate herself towards her given location no matter the circumstances. The only time one should be worried is when she can't.

+ Is able to run lengthy distances
What Anisi lacks in combat she makes up for in speed and agility and the woman is able to run far distances without breaking a sweat at times. Her tendency to avoid danger has made her far more prone to utilizing the flight response rather than employing the fight one.

+ Heightened sense of awareness
Due to Anisi's paranoia, she is able to notice things others would not as she was looking for it in the first place. Her gut is most of the time right and she follows it more than she follows the advice of others.

+ Is able to map out stars with an accuracy you would not believe
As a child, Anisi would often look at the stars as a child to determine her sense of location and, since then, it's be an ongoing practice til' this day.

Spells | Weapons:
Weapons: Before looking through these spells, it is suitable to note that Anisi utilizes both a wand and a book that she enchanted in order to cast her spells. The latter of the two is a favorite for the witch and she utilizes it to her advantage. On top of this, Anisi also keeps a small dagger at hand in case something unpleasant were to occur and she were without both the book and the wand.

Armor: Besides a simple cloak and the like, the witch deems armor to be unnecessary and rather detrimental to her cause. She prefers the lightweight feeling of normal clothes and has a disdain for anything that would weigh her down. There is also the fact that the woman fights from longer ranges than up close and personal so it is not much of an issue to wear what she sees fit.

Procidat Deceptionem: This spell is able to project a large deposit of mana in order to temporarily distract Blighters away from their primary target.

Length of time in which this spell is enacted: 10 minutes

Recharge time: 10 minutes

Aperire Librum: This spell is able to project words from an enchanted book into a series of images that could be utilized as a shield. For example, if said word was "spider", the book itself would be able to project an illusion of a spider (depending on the size, the mana drainage will vary) and utilize it as an animate insect. The only downfall to this is that the illusion only serves as just what it entails: a hallucination. The spider would be unable to attack however it does well on the "fear" objective. Also, if the words are not properly spoken the first time then the spell will immediately lose its ability to be cast for an additional 3 minutes.

Length of time in which this spell is enacted: 14 minutes (mana can be drained the longer it is enabled)

Recharge time: Depends on the amount of mana drainage which takes place.

Calor: This spell in particular is more of an accessory rather than a spell, it is able to be utilized as a blanket of sorts which provides the wearer unlimited warmth. It is basically useless unless one does not wish to freeze in the middle of the night however the downfall is that once outside of the radius of aforementioned spell, it is broken and will require another recharge. Also, it must be noted that this spell can only be enabled in cold conditions.

Length of time in which this spell is enacted: Unlimited

Recharge time: 1 day


Sagitta Agentibus: This spell is able to maximize the efficiency of arrows within the caster's radius.

Length of time in which this spell is enacted: 8 minutes

Recharge time: 2 minutes


Cuniculum Visionem: This spell, only utilized in dire situations, is able to remove the caster from their body and have a view of the scenery below HOWEVER it is only able to capture the outlook rather than the targets and the details in between. Whilst this spell is enabled, the caster will be unable to move until its time is expended and will have to be protected from oncoming hordes of the Blight.

Length of time in which this spell is enacted: 12 minutes

Recharge time: 10 hours

Writing Prompt
It was simply devastating how one could work themselves into a state of "could have been"s and "couldn't have been"s, it was absolutely, positively heartwrenching how often Anisi did this to herself and staring at the ground in a state of utter despair could not possibly help the situation any more than it hindered it. There was no longer any need for her to venture around one who could not reciprocate what she felt and there certainly was no reason to dwell on such matters. Her father had informed her long ago that strength comes from within but there was no strength to be found on this sunny day and there never would be.

In fact, Anisi could not quite recall the moment she had lost her courage and her ability to be bold for once but it had been a feeling she had long forgotten and she did not think there was any hope in it returning to her. Right now there was a crumpled love note and a feeling of constriction taking a hold over her. Right now there was another person carrying about their day with not a worry in their mind and Anisi desperately wished to be them as right now there was nothing but a steady stream of "Why did I do that?" in her head, begging to be answered. She was afraid that this time she did not have the solution to the problem. It was a first for her and it was truly terrifying. She had poured her heart and soul into a piece of parchment and plastered it all over his walls. She ripped out something only she could see and expected him to look and she shouldn't have done such a thing. It was unthinkable, it was embarrassing, it was-

"Hey, move ye arse!" In Anisi's current existential crisis she had neglected to remember she was standing in the middle of a rather busy street and had decided to take on the qualities of a mannequin. A rather short and intimidating man was barking at her as well as a rather surly looking elderly woman and the witch quickly made her way through, politely maneuvering through the commotion of people and returning to her thoughts. It was just a stupid love letter, a piece of unrequited desires that meant nothing to anyone unless they invested in such childish matters. Why the hell was she so afraid about what he thought?

'Because you're afraid of everything.'

The truth hit her like a harsh wind and she found herself wandering with no particular destination. What a fool she must've looked to others. A fool in love was a fool that led themselves to an early death and Anisi was soon to do that if she did not gain control of her emotions. Soon, the girl was resting against a wall and she could not remember why her feet had taken her there but she didn't question it, her eyes sliding closed and her head tilting back. The mantra never ceased for as long as she stood there, ignoring the heat which seemed to take hold of her and cause beads of sweat to form on her forehead. She had completely given up on the idea of moving forward as all that was given to her was being pushed two steps back. It was as if she simply ceased to put effort into much of anything in that very moment.

Yes, in that moment, Anisi had finally given up and she didn't think there would be such a relieving feeling as there was now.
 
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Aurelia Boveri​
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Color: Red
Occupation: 1st Lieutenant Witch
Rank: Matriarch
License: 9 Petals
Personality
To those who first come in contact with her, Aurelia is as insignificant as a fly on the wall. However, anyone who’s actually been around her long enough knows that judgement is far from reality. Unlike a venomous snake who wears bright colors to warn of danger, her benign exterior gives others a very false sense of security. In truth, Aurelia can actually be very abrasive and unwelcoming. Unsympathetic to anyone’s situation, she’ll tell you how she see’s it without remorse. Although her words are harsh and unforgiving, it can’t be said that she’s not truthful. The very least that a person deserves is the truth, and so she speaks nothing but it, even if she doesn’t get it across in the most pleasant way possible. In light of that, Aurelia still isn’t all curt and cutting words.

When it comes down to it, she can be very altruistic to both those that she despises and those who are less fortunate than her. It’s one of the few silver linings in the cloud that is her personality, and if you tease her over it she’s liable to punch you in the jaw. When it comes to battle and strategy, Aurelia can be rather short-sighted, only thinking what effect her actions will have in the short term. But this is partially made up for by her ability to adapt to situations quickly and efficiently, and she truly fights best when corned (though she wouldn’t purposely put herself in a situation like that...most of the time.)

Her short-sightedness can be attributed to the fact that she is generally very compulsive. Everything she does is usually done on a whim rather than the result of a well thought out plan, which has and will lead to many complications in her life, but she seems to be unperturbed by that fact. Aurelia says and does what she pleases, which is simply just part of her whimsical nature. She cares little for the opinion of others, and that has caused quite a bit of ire to be aimed in her direction, especially when taking into conclusion her and her families disregard for most societal traditions, though they don’t say or do too much to stir up trouble. But despite her seeming indifference to everything, she is actually rather emotional. Whether it be anger or sadness, she can never fully throw a veil over how she’s feeling, despite her best efforts. It’s her eyes and her voice that usually betray the facade she throws up.

Appearance
From first glancing upon her, it's hard not to notice her igneous hair and hazel eyes. Aurelia has a light, but warm complexion and she certainly has a very feminine figure. With curves that she's not at all too shy to show off, she still remains to be quite muscular due to her numerous years spent in the military. The way in which she carries herself (shoulders stiff and taut, always ready to act on a seconds notice) and just the general aura around her makes her seem extremely unapproachable. It certainly doesn't help that she stands around roughly six feet tall (give or take a few inches), and Aurelia prefers to keep it that way.

Though her eyes betray this outer shell. Most of the time she seems like she's gone one too many nights without sleep, as though she's not fully aware of the world her around her, and one has to wonder from time to time if she actually cares to. The emotion these eyes hold can change depending on who she's talking to, going from half-awake to wide and cat-like, with just a small glint of mischief in them.

She does have her fair share of scars, the most notable one being the three deep slash marks across her lower back, almost as if she was scratched by a rather large cat. Aurelia also has a burn scar covering her right hand, which is the by-product of a spell she was testing out in the past.

History
Even if the memories are distant enough to the point where they might as well not exist, the Boveri family was once of nobility. Though their fall would be quick whenever their family began to birth infertile women. Just one was enough for them to get side-eyes and weary glances, but when that number started to grow with each generation, their high status and reputation fell with it. Rumors of how they were forsaken by the goddesses weren’t uncommon to hear, along with rumors of how all the women in the Boveri family were “broken” and unable to bear children or utilize magic.

And although these series of events far precede Aurelia’s birth, even now she still feels the crushing weight of the past on her shoulders, and the expectation that she has to work twice as hard to make up for it. And for a long time she was driven by that singular goal. It was why she was so adamant about joining the military at the age of fifteen, and it was her initial reason for staying in the army past her required two years.

During her time in the military, she became quite interested in the intricacies of spell casting and figuring out how certain spells worked. Because of this, she would often spend time deconstructing spells and building them back from the ground up, with a few other things added in to create something unique. This was how she created the spell Cirrus di Fiamma, though perfecting it was another thing entirely. In the months she spent stabilizing it, the trap had prematurely activated, entangling Aurelia’s right hand in it and leaving her with a severe burn, which is now a prodigious scar. It was a relatively small price to pay for her current and future endeavors.

Despite her dissatisfaction with the life she was living at that point in her military service, she pushed onwards. It wasn’t until her sister Velia also enlisted in the military that she started to examine her own motives. She saw how her sister was seemingly unaffected by the social expectations that had controlled a good deal of her life, and she couldn’t help but ask herself exactly why she was doing all of this, and whether it was truly worth it. It was after this period of self reflection that Aurelia returned to service with renewed zeal and drive.

Since then she has earned herself the rank of Matriarch and found herself a spot on a special unit team. Now, she has arrived in Sylva after having received orders from such unit to head into city in order to pick up new recruits. Aurelia doesn’t regret the time she spent living a life that was not her own, she only recognizes that it helped her become the witch that she is now.

Relationships
| Camilla Boveri | 47 | Aurelia personally doesn't know what to think of her mother, and truly she doesn't understand the woman at all. Though that isn't to discredit Camilla's abilities as a witch, as she is a far more formidable opponent than Aurelia herself.

| Silvio Azzarà | 48 | To keep it short and simple, if Aurelia ever saw him again, she'd probably set him on fire.

| Velia Boveri | 23 | Much to Aurelia’s dismay, Velia is often seen as the older sister, which is due to both a combination of her height and the general aura of maturity that surrounds her. Aurelia takes much joy in pointing out that she is in fact the older one, while Velia just mocks her about it. Unknown to Velia, she is the reason that Aurelia is trying so hard to get to a higher rank in the military.

| Vittoria Boveri | 20 | The two of them were raised together when Vittoria was adopted, so at this point they're practically sisters. Vittoria has always been an enabler of Aurelia's more unsavory habits, and you can expect a decent amount of trouble whenever the two of them are seen entering a tavern together, occasionally dragging Velia along with them.

| Fausta Boveri | 40 | Besides Aurelia's mother, Fausta, her aunt, also had a hand in training her to be the witch she is today. Aurelia adopted a lot of her fighting style from her, which shows in how she focuses more on swordsmanship and less on casting complex spells.

| Giorgina Boveri | 35 | She always was a little bit more...extreme when it comes to her method of handling things compared to everyone else in the family (and that's saying a lot), though Aurelia doesn't have any grievances with her.


| Damon Dragoslav | 26 | They're friendly with each other. Aurelia is often pushing him further and further out of what he's comfortable doing, while in turn, Damon stops her from mouthing off at or possibly even punching the wrong noble.

| Scarlet Ebeling | 23 | Aurelia worked with Scarlet before in the past. Now they mutually tease each other about a bunch of things, and on the rare occasion Scarlet even acts as Aurelia's wing lady.

| Balasar Hagermaus | 36 | One time when Aurelia was drunk, she made the off-hand comment to him that she’d bang him if he was a girl. She still hasn’t lived that down, and refuses to speak directly to him now.

| Kili | 25 | Aurelia kinda sees Kili as another younger sister, and because of this she can be somewhat protective of her. She also adores Kili's little girl Po, despite the fact that she can be a little bit devilish.

Skills
Swordsmanship - Aurelia has chosen to focus more on swordsmanship than anything else, and because of that choice she has become quite skilled at it. Of course, she hasn't completely shirked the idea of spell casting, but instead has decided to develop spells that will supplement her swordsmanship rather than to just sling fireballs.

Adaptability - She has a knack for squeezing herself out of situations where she's stuck between a rock and a hard place, especially while on the battlefield. Aurelia has an easy time adapting to erratic and unpredictable situations, turning the tables whenever they were previously not at all in her favor.

Reading People - As a witch, and Matriarch at that, it's almost impossible not to get caught up in politics at one point or another. Because of this, Aurelia has developed a decent skill of reading people and possibly figuring out ulterior motives, and knows how to psych out that someone's not being entirely truthful.

Spell Crafting - She's apt at mixing and matching different techniques to come up with her own useful and unique spells, despite the fact that they have a tendency to blow up in her face while she's testing them. Though when it comes to any using/creating ranged spells or overly complex ones, she's pretty trash.

Weapon
Spada Da Lato - The only weapon she really needs. It combines the nimbleness and thrusting power of a rapier while also being able to cut as well as any other sword. The overall length of the sword is around forty inches, with the point of balance being very close to the hilt to allow for easier control.

Spells
Choler: If in a situation where she is without a weapon, this spell engulfs her fists (and whatever is in her hands) in fire and deals burn damage whenever she strikes someone. If the spell is carelessly casted there is a high chance that the fire could burn her as well. Casting the spell uses up a minimal amount of mana and lasts for roughly five minutes or until dispelled.

Celerity: Purely a utility spell to use while in battle, casting this spell on herself or on allies will cause their movements to quicken, allowing them to attack and/or block much faster than they would normally be able to. Lasts for up to ten seconds and uses a minimal amount of mana to cast.

Thew: Another utility spell, whenever casted the spell increase the strength of her physical attacks. When combined with the use of celerity it can make for a deadly attack, and the effects last up to five seconds. The drawback to this is that it does leave her muscles tense and sore afterwards. It is only amplified if she uses the spell multiple times during one fight, which will leave her rather languid; uses a moderate amount of mana.

Scudo Del Fuoco: A ancestral spell that runs in the Boveri family, one that incorporates both elements of red mana and black mana. Casting the spell will create a sixty-five by sixty-five centimeter shield in front of her, however, this shield is also comprised of flames. It blocks any incoming attacks, and if her opponent happens to be attacking with uncovered fists, then it also applies minimum burn damage. The shield dispels within five seconds of first casting it or whenever it is hit, operating as a quick block in order to swiftly counterattack. Uses a minimal amount of mana.

Cirrus di Fiamma: Something that Aurelia managed to put together on her own, the spell functions as a trap and as a landmine of sorts. Whenever touched, tendrils shoot up to entangle whatever is caught in it, before exploding in a ball of fire. When the trap hasn't been activated, seemingly nothing is different about the environment, and it would take an especially keen eye to notice that the trap was there. It's worth noting that the spell is incredibly volatile, and before Aurelia perfected it, it was prone to activating prematurely. If the trap hasn't been activated for an hour, it will dispel. The amount of mana it takes to cast depends on how wide the area is that the trap will cover.

Writing Prompt
You will never speak to this person again, so long as you live.

It would’ve been easier if she hadn’t caught him in the act, maybe then she wouldn’t feel the burning need to set him alight. There he stood, bags heavy with coin and his eyes wide with panic. He obviously didn’t think anyone would catch him. He had done this multiple times before without even the hint if suspicion that it was him. Who would even begin to blame him, after all, the man was her father.

Silvio shifted on his feet, his eyes darting rapidly towards the door and towards Aurelia, the only person standing between him and escape. Aurelia gritted her teeth, her eyes aglow with anger. “So, despite all that you’ve known about our family, you still had the nerve, the gall, to steal from us.” She took a step towards him, Silvio, in turn, took a step back. His mouth opened, an apology ready to jump from the tip of his tongue, a promise that he could right his wrongs. But Aurelia wasn’t having any of it.

“Leave.”

Silvio blinked, almost as if he didn’t quite understand what he was hearing.

“Take the money and leave.” She moved out of his way, no longer guarding his path to salvation. “I don’t want to see you anywhere near this town. I don’t even want to hear a whisper of your name,” she spat. “I want you to leave, and never come back.”

Silvio took up the opportunity without protest, and had left the estate with the door slamming behind him. Aurelia released all of her anger in one sigh.

She instantly regretted not setting him on fire.
 
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Carmaline De Lancret​

Gender: Female
Age: 30
Color: Red Witch
Occupation: Noble, Researcher, War Hero, Wife and Mother (not necessarily in that order)
Rank: Matriarch
License: ?
Personality
Carma is calm and level-headed. Despite the De Lancret penchant for fire, she's as steady as an evening breeze. Experience in battle, as well as the loss of family, have left her largely unfazed by surprises. Instead, she projects confidence and a sure serenity.

Only a few topics disturb her evenness. The Blight incites an icy rage. Children bring out a delighted smile. And the love she has for her husband is radiant.

Appearance
Not especially tall, Carmaline has a regal carriage and presence that projects. She's slender, redheaded with wavy waist-length hair, and her green eyes are as clear (and often hard) as gemstone. Her voice is a soft alto that can sharpen in an instant when snapping off an order or wielding the powers of magic.

History
A daughter of a once mighty Fire Witch House, Carmaline is the last member of the female line alive. She was trained from infancy in the traditions and honor of the De Lancrets. Carmaline spent her teens in service to the Royal Army, where her level head in battle and ability to accomplish her orders became as prized as her skill in magic. By the time she reached adulthood, her education in strategy and tactics combined with her experience made her a natural on several theaters of war.

The Battle of Crécelle changed everything. A key crossing over the Amarantine River in the Rubidia Plains, the town of Crécelle was the last line of defense on the Blight-side of the river. Five hundred in the Third Regiment of the Rubidia Forward went in to hold off a massive invasion of Blight-corrupted creatures while the surrounding area was completely evacuated. By the time the last civilian was out, only a dozen remained.

So Carma retired to the estates of the De Lancrets, leaving behind the grief and suffering of a destroyed Regiment, and took up managing all of her family's holdings. One by one, her family had perished in battle or under mysterious circumstances and her mother had told her that a Blight curse would doom them all. By that time, Carma had already found love in the form of her childhood friend and lifelong companion, the Warden Archie. So the two married, had two children and Carma spent much of the last five years forgetting the horror of war while seeing to a transition plan. If there really was a curse, she had to make certain all the people who depended on the De Lancrets were seen to and cared for.

Until the last of her family died. Logically, Carma expected to be next, followed by her daughter. With her children in the care of her in-laws, and the deeds in place to ensure they would gain ownership should she fall, Carma then chose to reenlist in the Royal Army. Fighting the Blight had always been her family's passion. If she was to die, she would do so in battle. And perhaps if there was a curse in the Blight, it would seek the last of the De Lancrets out and she could finally face the adversary that had destroyed her family.

Once, the De Lancret family was legendary among the Red Witches for their peculiar affinity with fire. Spells and enchantments invoking flame always came easily to them. And for many years, their daughters peerlessly served at the front lines, riding into clashes with the Blight.

No more. Rumor has it the family teeters on the edge of extinction due to a curse. Despite all precautions, every few years another De Lancret perishes in battle, inexplicably comes down with the Blight or meets with misfortune. Between constant warfare and these mysterious deaths, the century of conflict with the Blight took its toll. By the time Carmaline was born, her part of the family tree were the last ones left.

Carma's mother perished within a year after her birth. By the time of her First Blood, her only aunt and last grandmother were dead as well. By the time her two years of service were up, one of her brothers died in battle. And two years ago, her older sister died as well.

Now it's just her, her sister's two small children and Carma's own daughter, Emma. As the last adult De Lancret left alive, Carma swore that if she perished in battle, the remaining De Lancret children would be cared for by her husband's family and perhaps escape the De Lancret fate by hiding under another name.

Relationships

  • Archie: A childhood friend turned lover, he was one of the few who survived the battle that decimated her unit. His unfailing steadiness carried her through rough times and the two have been married for years. She adores her sweet, inventive Warden husband and little brings out her soft side more.
  • Her children, Emma (her daughter and jewel of her eye) and Eric (her son, youngest child and Archie's heir).
  • Lydia: Joined forever in the camaraderie shared only by survivors, their bonds are closer still due to their mutual connection to Carma's dead brother Frank. The sight of Lydia brings up bitter memories and broken dreams but Carma would bleed, die and kill for the woman.

Skills

  • Nobility. Born to the educated, elite Red Witch aristocracy, Carmaline is well versed in the managing of estates including handling servants, training and caring for large numbers of horses as well as running a merchant transportation company.
  • Soldier. Years of service in the Royal Army have made Carmaline a skillful fighter with both sword and staff. She's experienced with hard marches, survival and deprivation training as well as military protocol and etiquette. Thanks to her Warden husband, Archie, she's also a fair shot with a gun.
  • Tactician. Carmaline was especially educated in strategy and tactics, skills the De Lancret family were highly esteemed for. Tutored by her grandmother, the former adjunct to the Royal General of Arcana, Carma learned how to build fortifications, create traps, exploit geography and utilize armies in warfare. Although somewhat rusty, her considerable experience combined with this education make her a remarkable strategist.
  • Witch. Raised with the study of battle magics, Carma knows an impressive range of spells designed for military application. Her years of retirement have made her something of an expert with the kind of spells employed by Witches involved in political or economic maneuvers.
Equipment

  • The White Holocaust: This staff was beautifully carved white ash capped with a golden claw clasping a ruby. Blasted in the Battle of Crécelle, the weapon still bears powerful enchantments but it's not the imperishable work of art it once was.
    • With a thought, the crystal ball can beam like the sun, brightening an area or sending a focused ray of light. Can be used for signaling.
    • When rapped against the ground, the staff radiates an aura of calm contemplation. Arguments and fights tend to cease as both rage and fear vanish, though nothing stops combatants from finishing a fight outside of the heat of passion. Once, this effect could last up to an hour but the Battle of Crécelle broke the weapon's ability and now it lasts only a few seconds. Enough to extinguish immediate fear and anger but not enough to keep them from returning.
    • When lifted aloft, it projects a fiery image of the standard of whoever bears it.
    • It's an exceptional focus when it comes to channeling spells that involve fire.
  • A De Lancret Wand. Shaped of white ash and engraved with the runes and markings of House De Lancret, this copper-reinforced wand is Carmaline's utility focus, used for working magic around the house, a camp or in day to day life.
  • The De Lancret Robes. One of a set of robes handcrafted by a Grand Matriarch of the House, these gorgeous fabrics seem wrought out of red silk but intricately embroidered with sigils of the De Lancret family, mingled with powerful protective runes. They're magically resistant to tear, wear, mud, blood and most misfortunes. They also can lengthen or shorten sleeves, hem and hood for best comfort and survivability.
Spells


Stormwind Rider: Invokes a whirlwind that lifts her up and carries her as well as perhaps half a dozen companions across the land. Unfailingly swift but loud, hard to steer and difficult to land without wrecking the immediate landscape.
Stop Gap: Creates a thin barrier of bandages that tightly bind and immobilize a wound, preventing blood loss. It uses less mana and is faster to do when existing fabric is available to convert instead of creating cloth from magic.
The White De Lancret Flame: A special family spell that projects a torrent of fire in a single focused direction and sustains it, acting as a flamethrower to ignite the land and the Blight equally. Greatly draining on its own, the De Lancrets have a far more efficient version that can be sustained for up to an hour so long as they have a piece of wood the size of a torch to fuel it. The use of the White Holocaust allows nearly indefinite use.
Drawing the Sea Incantation: With a spiraling motion of the wrist and arm, a Witch can draw water out of a source and shape it to their liking, used recreationally for festivals and parties by making fountains and pools 'dance'. Carma specializes in a battlefield application where this spell is used against the land to yank moisture out of swaths of trees, brush and grass. This renders the affected landscape very flammable, setting up an environment prone to forest fire.
Methodology of Secrets. This spell can only be invoked before falling asleep. The target will then dream of learning a skill, technique or trade. Upon waking, they will remember how to perform that trade or ability with the skill of an average if well trained practitioner of that ability. This magical knowledge lasts until they next fall asleep, whereupon it's forgotten. While the spell can be invoked each night, it can only be invoked for one skill at a time.
Avoiding the Truth Technique. Use of this spell imbues the Witch's words with the power of absolute deception. So long as she utters the target's name or rank, she can create the belief that she's lying about what she's saying. Part or all of a sentence can be aspected with this sense of artificial deception and cunning Witches have been known to season its use with sarcasm, so as to create plausible deniability.
Underling Invisibility Practice. Through a chant that takes no less than sixty seconds to intone, the Witch wraps herself in a shroud of subordination. Those who meet her will unconsciously avoid perceiving her if she appears to be less than they are. This can reflect hierarchy (if she's dressed like a private, anyone who is a Sergeant or greater may not notice her) or bias (if she meets someone who thinks women or Red Witches or nobles are less than they are). Should others draw the attention of affected targets to the concealed Witch, their attention will usually pierce this spell in a matter of a few seconds.
Smooth Transition. With a bent head and a ten second incantation, the Witch can instantly and painlessly kill a single target...so long as they freely consent. In the case of a target infected by the Blight, Smooth Transition also purifies the corpse, leaving it free from contamination and fit for burial.
Life Gets Worse. Touching a weapon and intoning ritual words will briefly enchant with powers of irresistible attraction, as long as it's used in the next five minutes. Usual objects are arrows, throwing knives or bullets. If the weapon pierces the skin of a target, it automatically begins to draw in all other projectiles fired or thrown to strike the same target. This enchantment lasts as long as the weapon remains in the target and, as long as it remains, it's exactly two and a half times harder to remove than it normally would be.

Writing Prompt


"I would forgive you."

Carmaline placed a gentle hand on the arm of Enkhtuyaa of the Pruskeyni family. The two traded looks, even as that proud, terrified woman shrunk back. Around them, the genteel laughter and tinkering of a piano filled this salon party. But for the life of her, Carma couldn't concentrate on any of that but this woman she hadn't seen in half a decade.

"I don't need your forgiveness," Enkhtuyaa hissed. "It was hopeless, a waste of lives, a waste of good soldiers and better Witches. You fools who stayed still lost the town."

"But saved its people," Carma said, dipping her head slightly in remembrance. "We who stayed understood that, understood the oaths we swore to Queen and country. As you did not. I would forgive you, Enkhtuyaa, for cowardice. It was a hopeless battle that none of us should have survived. But I will never forgive you for abandoning your oaths and those men and children who depended on you because it was a 'waste of good soldiers and better Witches'."

"We were soldiers, you and I. I could forgive you for failing to do your duty because you couldn't. But not because you wouldn't. So I'll give you this opportunity, Enkhtuyaa, for old time's sake."

Carma's smile was sharp and predatory. "Avoid me for the rest of your life. If you don't, you won't get a second chance."
 
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Leia Minerva​

Gender: Female
Age:19
Color:White
Occupation: New Warden
Rank: Junior Officer
License: 3 Petal
Personality

Leia is headstrong and hardheaded, making her a tough cookie but a rowdy subordinate. Her enthusiasm comes from her need to make a name for herself, a need to live up to her family despite infertility having left her magic-less. Leia is prone to act impulsively and seek glory. She puts up a front of hyper-capability and confidence that's actually driven by insecurity and anxiety. A good person at heart, Leia's desire for renown is second only to her desire to do good by the Warden Crest and will be the first to sacrifice for the cause or her comrades.

Appearance

Leia is a girl of warden friendly build, weight and height varying based on armor. Physically, she stands 5'10 weighing in at around 140 lbs. Not by any stretch a big human being but certainly big enough to cause some damage, if needed. Redheaded and hazel eyed, her soft features don't lend themselves to portray the potential war hero she intends to become, despite her current lack of magic.

History

The Minerva Family roots run deep into the history of Arcana. While never a very powerful or prominent family, they are one of the longest living. The family makes it's fortune in the forge and reforging business. That is, the manufacturing and then enchanting of weapons and armors. As the first sterile woman in her family in 6 generations, she was often treated like she was defective. Though not maliciously, her family just wasn't sure how to receive her condition. Leia grew up feeling like the black sheep, hopeless to live up to the name she was meant to bring honor to; and for the most part, she was. As a result, she fluctuated between reclusive depression and spirited rebellion in much of her adolescence. The torture and jokes at her expense her older sisters put her through didn't exactly help her confidence but did thicken her skin to the sort of thing.

Because of the war, the contents of the Minerva house changed with every set of family members starting and finishing their deployments. Some of the only constant inhabitants of the house were a young Leia, her grandmother and the other children of the family. At the age of 12 she started to feel the pressure of becoming useful in some way as everyone else was either already or entering into apprenticeship or in training. The push was purely self-inflicted as everyone initially assumed she was simply a late bloomer. Leia's persona had never been one oozing femininity and the fact she'd begun to spend the bulk of her time with either her grandmother or the male children of the family, relating more to them than the magical girls, had her become more boyish in personality. Thus, further distancing her from the mold for a woman of the Minerva family.
In order to kill time and preoccupy her mind as she waited for her first blood, Leia began to use the summer breaks out of school to unofficially apprentice under whoever was not away at war, building a sort of jack of all trades skillset as she helped them with their work or hobbies. It wasn't until she turned 15 and still hadn't bled for goddesses that a concern began to arise. Her mother decided to have her checked on, as a precaution, and it was found out that Leia would likely never have her first blood and as a result never become a witch. This revelation was understandably the last thing anyone wanted to hear. Leia felt aggrieved by the world and for a while fell off, becoming reclusive to her immediate family, especially her mother, who she felt she'd disappointed. She stayed like this for almost a year, coming out only for schooling and work then returning to her room for the rest of the day. One summer her grandfather, Morpheus, fresh off deployment, noticed her verve and her dejection. With some endorsement from her grandmother, he decided to give that vigor and angst direction. He took her under his wing, indoctrinating her in the way of the Warden. With his recommendation, she was accepted to and transferred from her current school to the Royal Military Academy. Between her time there and training with her grandfather she became a promising prospect for the Warden branches. Like all alumni of the various military academies she was commissioned to military as a junior officer. However, given the heat of the war and the range of the fighting, her first tour would be under the command of a more senior officer. After which she could possibly gain command of her own detachment, did she prove worthy.

Relationships

Mother Mara - actual mother and Matriarch of the Minerva family of white witches.
Doctor Minerva - father, well known doctor and decorated field medic for the Army.
Marcus Minerva - older brother and now head blacksmith.
Michelle and Miranda Minerva - twin older sisters and models she consistently fails to live up to.
Nina Minerva - younger sister and prodigy of the Minerva household.
Nana Ina - grandmother, elder of the Minerva family and consistent source of solace and strength for Leia. The only person she feels understands her plight.
Papa Morpheus - grandfather and almost unnaturally fit and capable for his age, still an active duty Warden Officer and acts as her mentor.
- Various aunts, uncles and cousins.

Skills
Skills:
"Back off, I'm trained." - Exceptionally skilled in the martial arts typical of Warden warriors, while most adept behind the hilt of a long sword.
"Don't worry, I'm a doctor...'s daughter." - knowledgeable in basic medical attention.
"If I wasn't so tough, I'd be really scared right now." - Able to push down her fear and self doubt in trying times and pass on some courage to her comrades in rally.
"Well, the manuals said to do it like this..." - detailed knowledge of military rules and regulations.
Not Perfect Enough - pedantic to the point of making you physically ill. Obsessive precision comes in handy more often than you'd think.
Fix-it Leia - learned essential equipment maintenance and repair from her brother.
"Eh, I dabble..." - capable in a decent range of trades and practices thanks to her time spent in positional limbo.

Weapon: Reforged long sword enhanced via enchantment to the fuller and tang allow her to make the sword more heavy at will with little negative impact to the inertia of her swing.

Spells: N/A

Writing Prompt
Your response to the writing prompt goes here. It should be as long as what you think you would typically write for a roleplay post. Choose one of the following four prompts to respond to in-character:


    • The love was unrequited.*
    • The effects of the spell were not as you anticipated.
    • You will never speak to this person again, so long as you live.
    • Something happened here. You hope it was a miracle… but probably not.
She could tell by the look on his face that she'd made him uncomfortable.

"Leia...." he started, his voice sympathetic causing her heart to drop. "I like you, really. It's just...I'm under a lot of pressure from the family to marry into power and continue the bloodline. As only son of the Angelos I have a duty to act as a bridge between houses and...with you..-"

"You can't...I understand." Leia said somberly, eyes low as she took a step away from him.

"I'm sorry, Leia. Truly, I am. I hate to be the one to make you feel this way, but we all have roles to play." Gerard said in attempts to try and consul her.

"No, I'm sorry for putting you in this position. I should've known better than to think a son of Angelo would have settled for the likes of me." Leia responded, now struggling a bit to keep her composure.

"It's not like that." he said putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "This has nothing to do with what I want, it has to do with duty. Like the one we have to the Warden Order. It's absolute, nonnegotiable, the family comes first. The freedom to just do what we please is not a luxury afforded to the likes of us. The life of a man- of a Warden is one of obligation. To work, parent, sacrifice, fight and die because that is our role. I know it's hard for you to understand but that's just how it is. I'm sorry."

The emptiness of the courtyard made his footsteps echo as his words did in Leia's mind. She was mortified, heartbroken, her worst fears had been realized. She was well acquainted with the feeling of inadequacy, though it had never hurt quite this much. She stood idly for what seemed like an eternity as the grief of thinking that, as she was, she would never be able to compete with her naturally gifted peers hardened her resolve to steel. Then and there the black sheep of the Minerva family decided that she'd work to prove her worth, once and for all, or die trying. Watery eyed and fighting off a sense of despondency, Leia stormed off. Nowhere in particular, just unsure of what else to do. It wasn't until she found herself alone beneath the shade of an oak that she let herself cry. It would be the last moment of vulnerability she would allow herself.

​
 

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Cain Lavan​

Gender: Male
Age: 42 years.
Color: White
Occupation: King Warden
Rank: Warden Commander
License: 9 Petals
Personality
Cain is known for two seperate personalities, depending on the situation. The one seen most often by everyone is a man of kind words and sound judgement. This is the face used for his time off the front lines. WIth his family, and subordinates within the Capital.
The other face is reserved for combat. His kind, peaceful demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced only by an imposing, stone-faced warrior with a downright terrifying attitude. Bringing this to fruition outside of the front lines never ends well, and usually causes no end of stress to the Queen with how jumpy she is these days...

Appearance
It is rare to catch a glimpse of Cain's actual physique, as his armor tends to hide all but his face, but it is generally assumed that in order to fight the way he does, and wear his armor without issue, a built physique would be present. A scar goes across his face, earned from a battle with a Dragon that threatened Sylva. It goes nicely underneath the epic facial hair that screams he has time for a few of the finer things. Cain is hardly ever seen outside of his armor as years in service has taught him to expect an attack at any time, even in the most peaceful of places- especially in the most peaceful of places.

History
Cain Dion was born into strife. He has no real memories of his family, home, or friends. They were cast to the fires of war in the last great push of the Blight. A toddler was all that remained when Wardens sifted through the rubble of what was once a village. They took the child in, attempting to find him a home, but to no avail- The Blight had done a number on all the options available. The child was named Cain, after a Warden of the old times from the first scourge of the Blight, who made a name for himself for his tenacity to survive. It seemed fitting. At the age of two he was officially under the care of the Wardens. At six, when he was actually able to hold a sword, his real training began. The unfortunate truth is that Child Soldiers are condoned in Arcana, leading to Cain to seeing the horrors of war at a very early age.

When he was seventeen, a grand tourney was held in honor of the Royal Family's second daughter's birthday. As a prank, a few other Wardens had signed his name into the fights just to see how he would do against other Wardens. Unfortunately for the other Wardens, Cain had not only studied their fighting styles, but he knew their every move down to their breathing. It became apparent he had a knack for fighting something other than the Blight. Cain decimated the other tourney participants, but unfortunately for Cain, he had not been told that the winner earned the right to be the Princess' consort. This was the kind of battle Cain had no experience in, and was relieved that he was to be apart of a Warden Contingent to launch an assault upon the Abyss itself. It was a silver lining that turned into another horrific chapter in his life.

They had only reached viewing distance of the Abyss, taking refuge in the ruined structures that were once a stronghold within the Archeluta Isles. The creatures of the Blightlands waited for their guard to falter in the dead of night. Hundreds lost their lives in the attack, including the then-current Grand Warden General was torn apart by the denizens within their target. Any who survived the initial assault quickly fell back, but were met with more opposition leading back to safety. Panic soon spread across the survivors as hope dwindled rapidly. Cain moved to the center of the group and lit a torch to stave away the darkness of the Abyss to give the survivors something to focus on. The fire symbolized what they were, what they were up against, and what they stood to protect. Life against the cold darkness. Few words were spoken. They weren't needed. The symbol was enough to reinforce their morale, and rally their numbers to cut a hole through the encroaching denizens and back towards safety. Only a fraction of the Wardens sent returned to Arcana. It didn't take long for the young man to be nominated for the Rank of General for his efforts, but there was still opposition to have someone so young take on that responsibility. On the morning the new General was to be chosen, a Dragon attacked Sylva's outer wall. Cain was the first to charge at the beast, paying for the attack with a swipe of its claws to his face, Unphased, he charged once again, jumping on top of the Dragon as it began to fly above the city. Scaling the Dragon's back, he slowly reached the dragon's head before sending his sword through its skull from below the jaw, sending it plummeting down to the city below. There are a plethora of tales told in taverns in how he survived such a fall. Cain hasn't explained how, nor can he hide his entertainment of people trying to figure it out on their own. What is known however, is that the Wardens didn't take long to anoint their new General.

Through his years as General, and unfortunate winner of Amelanch's Tourney, he has had many dealings with the Royal family Some good, some bad. Some more tricky to explain than most....

Relationships
Cain has no real family to speak of. His last name was all that was there to trace him to his cultural standing, as he was placed into Warden hands when he was only two. His family was killed by the previous Blight Swarm as it tore through a village on the outskirts of Arcana- He doesn't even know the names of his parents, nor if he had siblings. Still, that's not to say he went insane, dressed in some suit looking like some random animal and stares down at people from the tops of structures at night... Right?


Queen Amelanch: This... gets tricky. Cain had only recently become Warden General prior to the current Queen's coronation. To spare the more dramatic details, he was chosen to be her consort, which then went further to points that Cain had not been prepared for with all his experience. He has a few more things to protect now.


Ashley Lavan: The Royal Prince, and newest charge under his training regimen. At least he's older than when Cain became a Warden... He didn't exactly learn to read until he was seventeen. The child is lucky.


Diantha Lavan: The Royal Princess; She retains the old innocence Amelanch used to have... Cain prays she keeps it.


Balasar Hagermaus: One of his brightest pupils and a dear friend. Has never been able to find common ground between Balasar and the Queen, but that may be impossible at this point. Counts him as one of his most trusted soldiers, and will rely in his wisdom in any situation.


Kaliyah Fumer Norwood: Another brilliant student. More than earned his trust and made sure she would be granted the glory she seeks under Balasar's command.

Iskandr Savale: He appreciates his honesty...

Skills
Tactician: Cain is first and foremost a soldier in his eyes. His role as King is worth note, but he will always remember his upbringing before looking to his new luxuries. Not letting his mind slow with his new role, Cain has studied, improved upon, created, and adapted towards various strategic methods, all to make sure Arcana survives long beyond him.

Battle-Master: Cain was trained to be a Warden from an extremely young age. While not the strongest, or the fleetest within the Warden's ranks, what Cain has going for him is his experience. Cain has overcome many of an opponent because he can read their movements in the middle of combat.

Teacher: Many Wardens have come to Cain in hopes of being taught the art of combat by their King. Most notable have been Balasar Hagermaus, the infamous 'Bitch-Slayer', and Kaliyah Fumer Norwood, regaled as 'The Queen of the Wolves'. He is proud to see so many wish to learn. It shows that ignorance has not won.

Damage Control: The number of wars this man has prevented after his wife, the ACTUAL ruler of Arcana, has either said or done something to anger everyone else is in itself enough to make one pine for a new form of government.

Politicking: In tandem with the previous item, Cain has spent twenty years getting used to the political field. He is by no means a master, but is great at picking up the cues of those around him in their dealings.

Weapon
Warden's Oath

A very old and simple broadsword that has been passed through the Lavan familiy for generations. It has a unique enchantment - the soul of an ancient, nameless warrior has been bound to the blade, whose linage predates Arcana as we know it. A very picky spirit, it will only give its power to whomever it deems worthy. If the wielder is lucky, the spirit will grant them with supernatural strength and speed. The cost of using these gifts depends on the length of time that they are used. Brief use is recommended, as a long period of use has rendered Cain either unconscious or incapacitated for weeks.

Equipment

The armor Cain wears on a near-daily basis, is a set of solid plate that is adorned in weathered hides of sentimental value to the King. The selection has been enchanted heavily to allow both much greater freedom of movement, and. oddly requested, ignorance to impact. A questionable choice, as this doesn't stop him from being harmed by a blade, after all. This has given the added bonus of leaving the fear of heights non-existent to Cain. The intent for this was based solely on the phenomenon of the sword's enchantment, as with this particular setup, Cain is no longer under the life-threatening strain of its power.

In addition to his armor, Cain carries around a satchel filled to the brim with an assortment of three things; Charged crystals to distribute to Witches on the field for a pick-me-up, Overcharged crystals to distribute amongst an enemy force for devastating results, and, well, candy. Because the Wardens need as much positive reinforcement as possible.


Writing Prompt

​

​
Something happened here. You hope it was a miracle… but probably not.


It had been fifteen hours after the call for retreat from the ruins within view of the Abyss' maw. What was once a battalion of fifty was now seven. Leading the group was a frail boy, no older than seventeen, a torch in one hand and a sword wrapped in a torn cape bearing the insignia of the royal family- drenched in blood, in the other, along with the reigns of a understandably traumatized horse. While the aspect of retrieving this weapon was sensible, as his own weapon had shattered against the creatures of this hellish place, he refused to remove it from its improvised scabbard. It belonged to the King. It would be needed to inform the royal family of his passing...If anyone were to survive.


Among the survivors were six Wardens and a lone Witch, all fleeing for their lives from the unholy roars of one particular denizen that had been the harbinger of the survivors’ fates. It had already killed everyone else who had survived the initial slaughter, and only a handful remained.

It appeared as though it was still hungry. The darkness all around them concealed the creature from sight. It could be lurking right behind them, and they wouldn’t be able to see it. The darkness...Even with where they were, it seemed...Unnatural. The boy stared up at the unending black above him, trying to find something-anything that pierced through it, but to no avail. The boy had seen most of his friends torn apart and turned against him within the span of one day. It was a miracle he even was still functioning at this point.

“.....CAIN!” One of the other Wardens yelled, breaking the boy out of his trance, causing him to look back at the group following behind him.

“This place has us going in circles! The horses can’t take much more of this endless running!”

“Well what do you propose, Niles? We stop while that roaring keeps getting closer?” Cain snapped back, the ordeal clearly taking it's toll on him. Before he could continue, he returned his gaze in front, trying to find anything.

“All I’m saying is this is pointless! It’s probably just waiting for us t-”


Another thunderous roar interrupted any addition to the conversation as the land shook from the mass moving across it, directly at the group, and then breaking off, going around them. The stomping ceased ahead of them.

“...STOP THE ADVANCE.” Cain yelled out, causing the group to halt, staring ahead at the two glowing orbs in front of them, the creatures eyes staring back at them.

“.....Avalisse, a light, if you could….In front of us.” Niles said aloud, not looking away. The lone Witch of the group began an incantation, quietly murmuring the words as to not alert the thing in front of them. Within moments, a new orb of light was shot out towards the creature, bursting outward and illuminating everything and revealing the beast for what it was; a massive, daunting arcane horror. Haunting white eyes atop a maw of endless teeth. As the light drew closer to it, it let out a shriek that shook the very earth, snuffing out the illumination with little effort.

“That….That thing’s the size of a barracks!”

“It….Screamed the light away.”

“There's another issue.” Cain spoke, his eyes still on the creature.

“It's blocking our only exit out of here.”

Indeed, the monster poised itself within the exit that led out of their predicament on purpose.


“Then it needs to die.” Daneth, one of the other Wardens unsheathed his weapon, three others, Jerron, Teran, and Horace, did the same. All four were strong, capable Wardens in their own right.

“Another light if you could, Avalisse, it seems to at least distract the thing.” Daneth requested, as the four moved closer. They would strike when the light returned. As the ball of light burst once again, the four charged, something else was learned from this creature- Its claws were already poised around the Wardens as they moved forward.

It would have been a blessing had that light not been there. Cain, Niles, and Avalisse were witness to four Wardens and their horses being torn apart like parchment by the razor sharp claws and forced down its maw. The sound of the bones snapping and screams as they disappeared from existence would leave more than a small mark on the surviving trio. It was not done though. It seemed fixated on a new target in particular now, the eyes focused entirely on the provider of light; The Witch. With another shriek, the light was snuffed out, but not before it charged straight at her.

“Avalisse! Get out of there!” Niles barked as both he and Cain charged toward where she was. Her horse panicked at the sight of the charging monster leaving her stuck where she was. Cain threw his torch at the creature’s eyes in a last ditch effort to distract the beast while he rushed forward. The sound of the creature’s frustration as the fire made its way to one of its eyes became clear as it thrashed about. Cain knew what was coming, and shoved Avalisse off of her horse as the back of the monster’s hand crashed with where Cain, his and the now-vacant horse were, sending them across the pass into the stone surrounding them. The horses were killed on impact, whereas the sound of Cain smashing against the rock were met with pain and shock as he was left sprawled on the ground. Cain, barely holding onto his consciousness, looked up at the creature, his vision blurred and darkened as the monster roared in his direction before returning its gaze over to the Witch, whom the other Warden had picked up onto his horse.

Something gleamed in the remaining embers of the torch that had been thrown. The King’s sword. The cape had long since been flung off in the impact, leaving the weapon, a polished longsword in its quiet glory. Cain’s breathing was shaky as he reached for the blade. It was safe to say the impact had done its damage. With one final bit of strength, he reached the blade, his hand upon the handle. As he did so, time stood still, his vision going black, before returning in a flood of white.


“You are not Ferentus”


“I…..Who?”


“Yes, I’m speaking to you, boy. I’m already aware the average mental capacity of your ilk is beyond lacking. I suppose it’s my fault to assume you can even get THAT far…”


“Where..? Where am I? Where are you?”


“Progress! You CAN make an attempt at more than a word at a time! You must be a savant of your people at this rate.”


“I don’t have time for this…”


“Time? You wish to talk about TIME, boy? I get the feeling you wouldn’t even comprehend the definition of the word ‘Ironic’. Now. Where is Ferentus, boy? The fool forgot where he left his weapon again, didn’t he?”


“...He’s dead.”


There was a long pause, before a grunt.

“...It took long enough.”


“..What did you say?”


“It doesn’t matter. Ashes to dust and all that. It was inevitable, really. He lacked being able to see the big picture. What did he expect, sending a meager party into the heart of the Blight?"


“Meager…? It was fifty strong!”


“And now only three remain...Well no, with how bleak this is, it will be none in a few minutes.”


“...Are you done?”


“I beg your pardon?”


“I asked if you were done being an ass. I need to borrow this sword to kill that thing.”


“Boy, perhaps you already forgot that it sent you right into the wall after you annoyed it before. You got off lucky. The two steeds that were in its path with you died instantly. Or DOES this count as lucky..? I suppose you could try to make a run for it now while it’s distracted with your friends...I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”


“No.”


“It’s just two more forgotten names, boy. Just like yours, they don’t really matter.”


“Shut up.”


“All you’re going to do is get cut down the second it notices you.”


“Shut up.”

“Furthermore, your friends will just watch helplessly as you are ground into the earth.”


“I SAID SHUT UP! I DON’T CARE IF I DIE HERE. AS LONG AS I SAVE ONE PERSON, I DON’T CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO ME.” his words echoed in the empty void, before a figure stood before him. The spirit? It looked...Human.


“And why are you so eager to throw your life away, boy? Some romantic view of being a nameless weapon so others won’t be? Or is it all for kicks with you?” it crouched down to be at eye level with Cain, who found himself capable of moving once again.


“I just….This is all I know...They have lives outside this.”


“So the first option.” The spirit stared down at Cain with a piercing stare with a single eye. Cain took the time to study the spirit more closely. Only one eye present, the other hidden behind a patch. Stark white hair and adorned in scarred armor below the neck. A warrior?

“Seeing as I’m stuck here if you all die, and you won’t leave without the others, how about a bargain?”


“....A Bargain?”


“A deal. An agreement. Whatever you want to call it in that limited min- No, no. I’m getting off topic...I can grant you power. Enough to deal with this creature. For a price.”


“...What kind of price?”


“My power will reside in your body for a time...The problem lies in that a mortal’s form is fragile and quick to break. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a man contorted inward with enough force to snap the head right off between his own legs….It’s entertaining the first few times, but gets old when I need to keep finding conduits.”


“.....”


“...Off topic again. The pain will be excruciating after it is all said and done, but you will survive...Maybe.”


“....MAYBE.”


“I could be about to supercharge a complete waste of a soldier, who am I to assume?”


Cain stared at the ground, or the void below that could COUNT as the ground for the longest time, contemplating his choices.

“....Do it.”


“Don’t feel so bleak. It’s only your life on the line.” the spirit chuckled, taking his hand and placing it on Cain’s head, the hand glowing.​


Returning to the Blightlands, Cain’s eyes shot open, his eyes giving off a slight glow as he slowly rose to his feet, holding on the blade, that had changed from a polished longsword to a tarnished broadsword. The creature had stopped its advance toward Niles and Avalisse, as there was a light coming off Cain from the blade, taunting it. With a low, guttural growl, it moved back over to its last target, ready to strike it down for good this time. It wasted no time in this effort, attacking without mercy, its claws prepared to rend the boy asunder, only to catch the earth instead. Cain had found himself on top of the creature’s hand, as if he hadn’t moved at all. With a fluid motion he took the sword and stabbed it downward through the palm. A pained screech from the creature ripped through the darkness as the blade reached the other side, being twisted as it reached the earth below. In retaliation, the creature used its other hand to swat him away, much like before. The strike sent him toward the same wall, leading to the end of the similarities. Cain’s free hand had caught himself on the wall unlike before, a small crater had formed behind him.


“Perhaps you should try dodging. Or blocking! ...Oh wait, apparently someone doesn’t like the aspect of shields.”


“Are you seriously…?”

“Giving you commentary on your combat blunders? Of course. Its boring in here, boy.”


“Because you’re not going to be distracting at all.”


“I’m only distracting to the unfocused. By the way.”


“Wha-” The Creature charged at Cain, only narrowly missing him with its claws as he jumped to the side.


“You’re still in a fight, boy. I would end it before the strain catches up while it’s still alive.”
​

“I’m doing the best I can...I’m not used to this kind of….Wait..Where did it go?” Cain looked around for the creature, blade poised in front of him for a frontal attack if it came. After its last attack, it disappeared in the darkness.


A sudden crash from behind sent Cain back into the wall; the creature’s tail shot out from the darkness at its target with terrifying speed. Cain was quick to return to his feet, sword at the ready in the direction it had just attacked from, only to find nothing.

Another strike from behind, this time another backhand, sending him in the opposite direction. The pattern continued over and over. The creature remained in the darkness, avoiding direct confrontation.


“It’s winning.”


“I’ve noticed!”

“You’re going to die.”


“SHUT UP.”


“I will when you stop being useless.”​


Cain lacked the strength to remain standing, finding stability on one knee, the sword in front of him and stabbing the ground for leverage.

“Spirit. I need more of your power…”


“I told you. More power will kill you.”


“Well, I’m dead without it, right? What’s there to lose…”


“I thought you mortals thrived on self-preservation.”


Cain didn’t answer, his gaze fixed in the orbs staring back at him. It was prepared to deliver a final blow.


“Spir-”


“FINE. YOU WANT TO DIE SO BADLY, I’LL SHOW YOU THE EXTENT I POSSESS.”
​


There was a sudden spike in the intensity of light emanating from Cain, his eyes glowed a different hue as he slowly rose back up to his feet. The creature let out a roar as it charged once again from the front. With his free hand, Cain held it forward as the monster slammed into him. Instead of being run through, he remained in front of the beast, gliding across the sand as it continued its movements. Cain’s eyes seemed fixated on the creature’s. It let out another frustrated roar, baring its teeth at Cain. Cain’s hand lowered down, grabbing onto one of the fangs before bellowing a roar that was not entirely his own before he angled himself away from the beast, sending into the wall behind him head first, shattering the wall. Before it could exit the crater, Cain held the blade at eye level, pointing at the dazed creature. His free hand rested on the pommel as the sword began to radiate with a brilliant light, growing brighter and brighter as the creature finally took notice, it let out another shriek as Cain dashed forward, leaving a large imprint in the sand before stabbing at the monster’s chest, piercing its hide with a violent intensity. The beast hunched forward as Cain’s momentum wasn’t halted upon impact, punching through to the other side. Reaching the crumbled wall, Cain landed on his feet perpendicular to the ground and vaulting over the creature’s frame, the blade pointing downward as he landed on its head, the blade puncturing the skull with enough force to send it to the ground. One last shriek left its maw before it fell silent for good, the darkness around everyone fading, revealing a pass back to safety, amid the broken, torn remains of countless victims of this creature.

Niles looked to the exit out of this forsaken place before looking back to Cain, who was looking more worse for wear than before. They both made a run for the boy, seeing what was coming.

“Congratulations, boy. You defeated a scavenger of the Abyss. Bards will, for years to come, contemplate whether this is even a milestone.”

“Do you ever shut up…? And stop calling me boy. My name is...It’s Cain. You hear me you damned spiri…”​


The strain on his body took its toll as blood seeped past his eyes, nose and mouth, the sounds of his limbs snapping from the impacts from minutes prior finally occurring. His right arm in particular, for its deflection of the creature itself, was hardly recognizable before Niles had reached him to catch his body before he hit the ground.


“What the fuck did we just see!? What the fuck just happened to Cain!?” Niles barked, setting him down on the ground as Avalisse began to inspect Cain, who had lost consciousness long before he was caught. She placed an ear on his chest, listening for a heartbeat.

“....He’s alive...Barely.” Avalisse said, scrounging around for any undamaged supplies they had left.

“You….You can just….Magic him better, right? That’s what witches are good for...Right??”

“No, you daft idiot! You can’t just ‘magic’ someone better! We’re lucky we have supplies to keep him from bleeding out and the injuries from getting worse, but...Just LOOK at him!” She gestured at the entirety of Cain, who looked as though he had just fallen off a mountain...That might have been less painful, to be honest. After doing all they could to keep the wounds closed, he was carefully placed onto the lone horse as the three made their way out of the blightlands, slowly so the wounds wouldn’t open on impact.


The three would eventually return to civilization, bearing the ill news of the crusade into the Abyss. It would be a month before Cain woke to the sight of a familiar face. And a year before he was back on his feet to fight again.

 
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Maxima Quintina Horatius​
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Color: Red
Occupation: Warden
Rank:
License: Six-Petals
Personality
Conveniently, the color red tends to describe Maxima with great accuracy.Her temper is fluid, willing to reshape itself depending on the company she keeps. She will refrain from lashing out at non-witches, but might just give a witch a mouthful if she steps on Maxima's nerves. The Warden is also determined to fight for her brothers and sisters in the army all the while tolerating the witches as a necessary evil.

Her occupation allows her to use her pent-up anger and put it to good use.

Appearance
Maxima is a woman who was shaped by her rigorous military training. She is neither short nor tall, standing at an average 5'6". Her skin is of a rosy complexion and her hair is a dull brown. Her eyes are hazel.

History
Maxima's birth took a bit longer than expected, although she had been delivered without any ailments. That period of time was the most time her mother spent together with Maxima for most of what the girl could remember. Most of her childhood was spent being educated by her father. He was never much of a soldier himself, but heavily idealized the profession. Maxima became quite fixated with it herself.

Her mother did not wholeheartedly agree and claimed that Maxima should stop worrying about the "dirty work" the Wardens did and should instead focus on witches and memorizing spells because she'd need them in the future. To the surprise of both of them, Maxima never had her first menstrual cycle. Her mother had brushed it off as late development. She was absolutely sure it would happen. It never did and she was dearly disappointed. Soon after, they had a falling out which ended with Maxima enlisting in the Wardens.

She has recently been assigned under Warden Balasar.


Relationships
- Mara Aurora Horatius: Mother. Their relationship is not in very good standing as there is bad blood between the two.

-Titus Marius Horatius: Father. Relationship with Maxima is better than between her and her mother. Maxima thinks of and remembers him fondly, as a supporter of her ambitions.


Skills
Skills:
-Weapon and Armor Maintenace: To date, Maxima's latest weapons and armor haven't been seen to have rusted once.

-Tactician: As an avid reader of past Wardens' memoirs and books regarding warcraft, Maxima has memorized quite a bit of strategy and tactics.

-Centurion: Well-versed in weapon handling, Maxima has trained with different types of arms, from the basic longsword to the versatile halberd.

Weapon: As a primary weapon, Maxima uses a Halberd and a longsword as a secondary. That is her most basic loadout, to which she may add warhammers or a gladius depending on what she predicts she will face.

Spells: Spells are for sissies who don't wanna break their nails doing actual work >:C

Writing Prompt

The wound had been bandaged. It hit an artery. Maxima ran two fingers under the Warden's ear, on the neck, once again. After a moment, she tried slapping him lightly across the cheek. The action proved fruitless and she figured he was unconscious but still alive. She gently raised him off the ground and threw him on her back.

Given the circumstances, she paced lightly but briskly back to safety. His breathing became weaker and Maxima's pace became more rushed. She could hear chatter in the distance which was soon accompanied by a most-welcome view. The familiar sigil adorned the banners of the encampment.

A suspiration of relief had escaped Maxima's lips. She made haste towards the medic's tent and once inside, slowly lay the wounded Warden on one of the beds. Fortunately for him, Maxima was on time.
 
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Murdock MacÀidh​
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Color: Black
Occupation: Warden
Rank: Officer
License: 9-Petals
Personality
Murdock is a traditional man. His hands are seldom clean and he must always find something to occupy himself with. He enjoys the company of others and does not mind friendly banter. He enrolled into the army mostly to appease the stereotype of the typical man, but also because he loves to fight.

Murdock is, however, brutal on the battlefield. His booming, deep voice is near always present when he fights. His lungs are as if they were made of steel and one strong bellow could frighten grown men and women alike. As a consequence, Murdock often sounds as if he's gargling sandpaper.

Appearance
Murdock is standing at approximately 6'2". He's a manly man, with a marvelous braided beard and a red golden mane. His skin is pale and freckled. His eyes remind of a clear sky on a summer day. The remnants of cuts and slashes adorn his body and are displayed with pride, as trophies.

History
Murdock's family was not a native of Ourmont Village. They migrated there when he was still a child. It was unclear to him at the time, but they were running from a feud back in their homelands. His upbringing had been difficult, as the culture his parents split from was different enough for Murdock to be affected by it. Still, throughout his teenage years, life had become easier as he became used to the differences between the two cultures and learned to fit into Ourmont and still uphold the essentials of his identity.

When Murdock came of age, encouraged by his parents, he joined the Royal Army and became a Warden. Murdock had already been versed in the arts of war by his father, whom he respects and cherishes. He taught him how to be a man, how to carry himself, how to fight with all his might and how to be a loving father. His mother, whom he loves and cares for deeply, taught him how to speak, how to dance and how to respect the members of the opposite sex and how not to run from his emotions.

During his time in the Army, Murdock met someone special, a witch by the name of Anette and the connection they felt was instant. He fought alongside her, which only amplified his feelings for her. Murdock became almost enthralled by Anette and her by him. Their time together in the army, as well as in their spare time, was positively magical. It wasn't long until she proposed. She gifted him a claymore and a plate cuirass decorated with arcane runes and a special helmet, sporting a mana crystal on its forehead and more runes along the sides.

Murdock was a happy man, even more so when Anette told him she was expecting a child. Finally, he'd be a father. It was a girl, golden locks from her mother and piercing blue eyes and freckles from her father. As it turned out, seeing as both he and his wife had to serve in the army, their daughter, Isabella, spent more time being raised by her grandparents. She did not endure this for too long, however, as Anette retired from the Army and chose instead to have more prevalence in her daughter's life.

Murdock was visiting Ormount village when the outbreak began.

Relationships
-Àidh Mac na Carraige: Father, cherished and respected.
-Olibhia NicBhigein: Mother, loved and respected.
-Anette NicÀidh: Wife, adored and held dear.
-Isabella NicMurchadh: Daughter, likely the sole surviving family member. Cherished greatly.

Skills
Skills: -Lungs of Steel: Murdock has developed quite a thunderous roar which he can sustain for minutes. This also helps him with any wind instruments he might come across.

-Veteran: Murdock is very much a veteran of his craft and is therefore skilled and brutal in his stride across the fields of battle.

-Miscellaneous: A bundle of skills he had been taught by his father like cooking, basic carpentry, tool making and restoration of home items.

Weapon: -Decorated Claymore: The Claymore Murdock uses is enchanted to hold its sharpness for longer than normal swords. Therefore, Murdock rarely needs to resharpen the edges of his blade.
-Dane Axe
-Round Shield
-Mace
-Decorated Helmet: The runes on Murdock's helmet amplify his voice to an even louder level, so his barbaric yawp can instill fear into the next village over and his orders in battle can be heard by the whole legion.
-Decorated Cuirass: The Arcane magic which covers his breastplate is mana repellent. It does, however, not provide full protection for the wearer, but is enough to hold him in the fight for longer.



Writing Prompt
Yes
 
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Alberico Aureliano​


Gender: Male

Age: 26

Color: White
Occupation: Warden/Alchemist

Rank: Soldier/Researcher

License: 6 Petal

Personality
To call Alberico eccentric would be the understatement of the century. Alberico is arguable borderline unhinged, after hours spent mixing concoctions and chemicals that most people would, wisely, not even go near. His speech and mannerisms can sometimes slip to be totally aberrant, pacing and sentence structure slipping out of place as he gesticulates wildly, usually when highly passionate about something. He is obsessed with his work, be that finding an elixir to treat and cure the blight, or as a more short term solution new and inventive ways to purge it. When he ventures onto the battlefield, he usually brings at least one new toy with him to try out.


Appearance
Alberico is a very scrawny 5ft4, his short height and emaciated frame a consequence of both chemical exposure and spending days at a time working in his lab without ceasing for food or sleep. The dark bags under his eyes are everpresent, as is the distinctly pungent odour that announces his presence before anyone even enters the room. His hair and beard are unkempt, and his clothes stained with a plethora of unrecognisable substances, as well as an assortment of food stains.


History
Alberico’s father was a well regarded Alchemist within the Guild, creating various concoctions and medicines to help stop the spread of disease within the close confines of the capital. His mother, having chosen to spend a few years at home raising Alberico, decided to return to the front lines, leaving him in the care of his father. So the young Alberico spent many a happy day watching his father at work, delighting in the sparks, the fumes all the other signs of alchemy occurring. Those were happy days.


However, like so many others on the frontlines, his mother’s unit was wiped out - her body unrecovered. Alberico’s father, maddened with grief, began feverishly hunting for a cure, thinking that if his wife was infected he could maybe one day bring her back. He set up a secondary laboratory outside the protective sphere, and began smuggling samples of blighted material to experiment on and test his cures. Of course, there was only one way that was ever going to end. Infected and blocked by the barrier, he was killed and burnt by the city guards.


Alberico was looked after by his father’s colleagues and apprenticed into the guild. But the young child, whilst still happy in the lab, now mixed with purpose and drive, using more and more dangerous substances. The concern of his guildmates increased, and once they caught him sneaking out to visit his father’s blight lab, they acted swiftly and expelled him.


Refusing to be obstructed, Alberico began to ply his skills on behalf of the Royal Army. In exchange for developing and refining black powder weapons and other alchemical methods of fighting the blight, he got to go to the front lines to test them out. And when dealing with the numbers of blight that swarmed the group, who could say the odd corpse would not go missing?


Relationships
Alberico’s social skills were lacking even before his mind began to fray. He has no significant relationships at this stage.


Skills
Skills:

Pioneer of Science: Alberico attempts research that many others would not dare go near. Whilst this often results in things going boom, every so often he makes a breakthrough of true utility. Within his madness lies a spark of genius, but it is commonly believed that the two are tightly woven together in any case.


Inhuman focus: Alberico spends several days at a time in his lab trying to get that one thing to work without losing focus. Some might call it obsessive, but it gets progress done.


Chemical Chaos: On the battlefield, Acheron wields an array of alchemical contraptions. Dressed in a full protective suit, he is (mostly safe) but any blight in the vicinity may meet a variety of unpleasant fates such as being melted, incinerated, or more mundanely at risk of being mowed down by one of Alberico’s more ‘conventional’ weapons.


Weapon:

Hailshot cannon: A modified black powder firearm, with a larger powder charge and ammunition consisting of any small pieces of metal or rock Alberico can find. When fired, a hail of these small fragments is released, scything down anything on front of Alberico. The recoil is so intense that Alberico is knocked to the ground.


Drakespitter: Using a hand pump, an oil lamp and a reservoir of a compound he calls ‘Dragonoil’, Alberico is able to spray flames over a pack of blight in a way that most other men could only dream of. The composition of Dragonoil is something Alberico jealously guards, and should he fail to pump enough the stream will very rapidly dwindle and fade.


Scalpel, Scissors and Forceps: Whilst only used in battle as a last resort, Alberico always carries these with him, lest an opportunity arise.


Plaguesuit: Made from waxed leather and cloth, this suit completely encases Alberico’s frame. A mask covers his face, and Alberico is forced to suck air in through tiny pores over the mouth, whilst glass discs cover his eyes. Wearing the suit is hot, uncomfortable and disorienting, and it offers minimal protection against any serious weapon, but it provides an excellent barrier to the chemicals he uses and, thus far, the Blight.

Writing Prompt
An alchemical accident made the prompt whoosh up in a pillar of flame.
 
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